Erick Sermon Bomdigi

[Intro:]

I’ll just sway…

This’s the way it goes down

Def Squad

Nine-pound

Check this here

[Verse One:]

The E gets wicked, no need for the biscuit

The green-eyed funkdafied brother coming wicked

I sets the party off just like Tanqueray

The Funk Lord, nobody else could swing this way

I put the loc to the motion, drop the funk coast to coast and

I Buck like Shot, cuz I know I Got Cha Opin

Check the soup, I Dogg the mic like Snoop

I get swift like H-Town, when I Knock Da Boots (daaat’s right)

I’m dynamite with this mic

I Show like Doug E. and I rock the mic lovely

The afrodesiac, bringin the do-wah-diddy

to your city, on the Zapp side with the vibe

I’m Stone Cold like Bobby and Ralph T

I come with the Game of Death, without Bruce Lee

The irregular speakin, for those MC’s who be tweakin

Catch me at the Beacon just freakin

[Chorus:]

Brothers can’t see me

Cuz my style’s the bom-digi-bom-uh-dang-a-dang-digi

[x2]

Brothers can’t see me

[Verse Two:]

It goes one for the trouble, two for the show

Aiyyo, I’m gettin airplay like The Most Beautiful

I’m the mack, I made Goldy turn chrome

When I induce my styles upon the microphone (yeah)

I goes down for y’all in broad daylight

Weeded, rockin the mic like ta-dow and psych

Today is a Green Day, so it’s blazin

to specify it, I get big-up from Jamaicans

Hey, the E-R-I-C-K gets down for the public

More doper than Janet Jackson’s stomach

Ask anybody, who’s the dopest producer?

I think of cruise, I’m never too much like I’m Luther

My style is the craziest

No crew is fadin us

You got beef with my squad you better dare that

The shit I kick make rappers say, “I shoulda snared that”

[Chorus]

[Verse Three:]

Complete this puzzle, what Squad beat up like Russell Simmons

And more flyer than Robin Givens

Cosmic Slop, from the darkside

Basically, I Can’t Wait, songs from the Redman tape

(and make much sense when he’s kickin fool) cause I constantly keep shitting

and y’all constantly keep listening

Yeah, who can it be now, watch out

Flying through the air with wings E Double doing my thing

[Chorus]

Erick Sermon Boy Meets World

[Intro:]

“I want to know of you, I want to know of you”

Xross Breeds in the house representin’ Queens. I’m gonna send this out to

um, those fake so-called keepin’ it real, ha ha, check it out

[Verse 1:]

I gets the urge to let loose on shit, bringin’ the vibe like Phife Dog and

Q-TIp

Midnight black darkness, it’s the area or place thats destincive enought to

trace

The bass, my tune throughout the room, and if you want it, it’s here to

consume

Now let’s warm things up for instance a witness, as I break it down up in

this sentence

He, who shall not follow the funk shall fall, on they face

Not able to dip di in the place, my style is vintage, doper than any wine

on the market

Mics I spark it, flying tracks is my target, (def squad) I handles my

situation

Without Lyrics form Jason’s, I still get’s ill, beeotch

Even from the jealosy I recieve, you can’t hold me back I won’t retreat

I’m determined to be the nicest creation since devices

Or Italian ices, no matter what the problem is, I still, ah 1-2, in your

face like I’m Biz

[Hook:]

Boy meets world “I want to know of you, I want to know of you.”

I wanna know if you feel me though [x8]

[Verse 2:]

I believe in the power of the conscience mind

And if you think something then it becomes something like

If I had to battle a whole crew, if I couldn’t beat them

Then my conscience would defeat them, yeah

I wouldn’t put my career in jeopardy, but I will let something off if these

people keep stressing me

This is madness, I wish I was around when that midnight train to Georgia

picked up Gladis

Listen close life is just what you make of it, if you wanna Be Happy like

Mary J.

Then hey, then get rid of negativity in your circumference

Or outside your realm in mass abundance

Knowing that the industry is fulling up with drama got some hype (fakness

from people of all types)

Even the so-called keepin’ it real type stars are frauds, get the sword

[Outro:]

And the question is asked. Who is the fake nigga? Who is the fake brother

that is always fuckin’ up your shit. You wanna know how a niggas fake?

Check it out. Sit back and you focus your shit from a general perspective,

and if your shit ain’t lookin’ tight, there’s a fake nigga in your

circumference. And that’s word is born. For the 9-5 area, cause Def Squad

forever, reigning much terror.

Erick Sermon Ain’t No Future….2001

[Flavor Flav] “To the beat y’all” [repeats throughout intro]

[Intro: Erick Sermon]

Yeah, peace to MC Breed

Def Squad, 2002, uh

[Verse One]

Aiyyo this sound hard, somethin funky people gon’ dance to

Give the record a second, and a chance to

Hittin people like a scene of amazement

Floored by Erick Sermon arrangement

Frontin I can never do (uh-huh)

So now I’m lookin dead at you, so what you gonna do?

You checkin out the sounds of a scholar

You say, “Hi E – tell ’em HOLLA, HOLLA!”

I’m the E Double, and I proclaim my name

Straight up big game, peep all gangs

I’m like a rhino, stomp through the roughest pack

They figure I’m a trigga happy nigga so they step back

E, the microphonest

Who last the longest and who the strongest?

It’s not a game, it’s plain to see (ha)

Check out the sounds of E, and the Squad of D

[Flavor Flav] “To the beat y’all” [x5]

Y’knahmsayin? Ain’t no future in yo’ frontin

[Verse Two]

I never got caught with a kilo

If you ever do, it would never be with me yo

I ain’t the one to be servin up a ki’ yo

I sell work, but it’s more like sellin beats yo

Yo – I never have to worry about me gettin jumped

If I ever do, R-E-D, pop the trunk

Me and my crew, got somethin for all y’all (uhh)

When I’m on the mic, don’t play at all

I clock mad G’s a week, boomin at my peak

Everytime the E’s asked to program a beat

I put it down like this for everybody

Then throw a Def Squad cool out party

Takin over, barkin like a doggie named Rover

(Woof!) I’m pickin suckers like a four-leaf clover

They bitin lyrics on the mic cause they cobras

Are they sayin E.D.’s? Cause ain’t no future in yo’ frontin

[Flavor Flav] “To the beat y’all” [x5]

Ain’t no future in yo’ frontin

[Verse Three]

Yo, I’m the E, D-O-U-B-L-to the E and

Down with my homey Keith, and the R-E-D and

Niggaz talk shit cause we still be disagreein

I don’t give a FUCK cause I’m from N.Y.C.

In the city, where pretty ones low

If you ever shoot through my city NOW YOU KNOW

We get biz, and we got pride

If you don’t feel this, then nigga break wide

Cats be lookin, for the M-O-N-E-Y

Livin illegal, is the way, so they die

Cause I ain’t got time, to see if things work out

Things get hard I’m robbin no doubt

That be the way, E.D. can not be different

Never change the ways of the world of the government

If I was the President, I’d stay fat

Leave it up to me, I’d paint the White House black

Ain’t no future in yo’ frontin

[Flavor Flav] “To the beat y’all” [x5]

Ain’t no future in yo’ frontin

[Verse Four]

Yo, I got dough in my pocket, not from rollin

If I was a fiend then my gold would be stolen

Put my name E, on everything I own

My Excursion truck, outlined in chrome

Shined up good, ride through your neighborhood

StarTec phone, fat rims, and the Kenwood

Music kicked around and, can I have a drop?

Just because I’m ridin people think I’m sellin rocks

Ain’t no future in yo’ frontin

[Flavor Flav] “To the beat y’all” [x5]

Ain’t no future in yo’ frontin!

[Verse Five]

Yo, I’m cool to the rules of the world

Livin life raw, cause I never liked the law

Wear top ten on my ass my own jeans

Sell the game, tit for tat to the fiends

Make much dough but never break a sweat

Time to move out? My niggaz sayin BET

You got my back and I got yours

What time is it? Tear down the doors

[Flavor Flav] “To the beat y’all” [x3]

Ain’t no future in yo’ frontin

[Flavor Flav] “To the beat y’all” [x2]

Ain’t no future in yo’ frontin

[Flavor Flav] “To the beat y’all” [x2]

Ain’t no future in yo’ frontin

[Flavor Flav] “To the beat y’all” [x2]

[Erick Sermon]

Uhh, yo, combustible, uhh

Uhh, yeah, huh, Def Squad

Huh, PPP yeah uhh

Funky Noble y’all, huh uh, Phillie addict uh

Keith Murray word up uh-huh

Uh-huh, yeah, Daytona y’all

Uhh, uhh, Khari uh-uh

Sy Scott, uh, what? How we do what?

Uh, all day baby

Def Squad, uh, uh peace to MC Breed

Uh-huh, yo, uh-huh, yeah yeah

Check it out y’all, uh

Erick Sermon A Way Out

[Intro: Erick Sermon]

Ummm! Ummm! Yes! Ummm!

Uh huh! Ummm! There must be a way uh!

Ah! Yeah! There gotta ne a way uh!

[Chorus: Jimmy Hendrix]

There must be some kind of way outta here (Find it!)

There must be some kind of way outta here (Hmmm!)

[Verse 1: Erick Sermon {Jimmy Hendrix}]

Ha! Damn! My heart is goin bad (Uh huh!)

Gotta get home ’cause my kids need dad

Got me on Worldstar now I’m on Vlad (UH!)

Media throwin me in the Pitt like Brad

Can’t get mad, it works both ways

So I’m sad plus glad, forgot what I had (HA!)

Rad, white boys definition of cool

Me behind the 8ball defintion for pool

Rick Ross seizure Heavy D the breather

Now I’m all hooked up monitor with the beeper

IV’s in me (UH HUH!) Arm lookin like a heroin addict

Can you feel me Jimmy? {Here}

People in prayer on my Facebook and Twitter (HUH!)

Post fam like, don’t you leave me nigga!

Are you in Paris ’cause this shit’s crazy

Thank God and the sun that saved me

[Chorus: Jimmy Hendrix (Erick Sermon)]

There must be some kind of way outta here (I’m gonna find it yeah I’m gonna find it!)

There must be some kind of way outta here (Yeah I’m goin this way!)

There must be some kind of way outta here (I’m gonna find it yeah I’m gonna find it!)

There must be some kind of way outta here (Oh yeah I’m goin that way!)

[Verse 2: Erick Sermon]

Yeah! I’m blessed ’cause I made it (HUH!)

Now everybody comin at the E now I hate it (YEAH!)

It’s not their fault it’s the messed I created

It’s time to get the fake and the real separated

This almost killed me, so called fame (AH!)

Seein me in the picture date under my name

Shame I live life for everyone but me

The money I worked for they gettin it free

Sayin they love me to death and all that

Sayin I look good lean though I’m fat

Who the hell are these people?! (HUH!) I don’t even fit here

Who’s bathroom is this man?! I don’t even sit here

Never try to red light me try to scheme

But I was good to go that’s why my eyes green

So I’m a get in my new Coupe and rive

And Sway back and forth, Shade 45

[Chorus: Jimmy Hendrix (Erick Sermon)]

There must be some kind of way outta here (I’m gonna find it yeah I’m gonna find it!)

There must be some kind of way outta here (Yeah I’m goin this way!)

There must be some kind of way outta here (I’m gonna find it yeah I’m gonna find it!)

There must be some kind of way outta here (Oh yeah I’m goin that way!)

[Verse 3: Erick Sermon]

Yeah! I heard what you said man

I was almost underground like a dead man

And now I’m writin down sentences, but I could have been where Jimmy Hendrix is

I’m a fighter, somethin like Rocky Balboa

Built this architect and I don’t need Noah (Uh HUH!)

Chick callin my name and I don’t even know her

But if she want to get to know me now let me show her

Erick! I come from the era of the golden (RHYMES!)

This DMC crown I’m holdin

JMJ helped my group in a big way (UH HUH!)

I wished I could tell him now thanks for my DJ

A few friends I don’t speak to often

Some on their high horses came down off them

Just to show me homey that they care

And there’s a way out, and I’m gettin the fuck outta here!!!! Yeah!

[Chorus: Jimmy Hendrix (Erick Sermon)]

There must be some kind of way outta here (I’m gonna find it yeah I’m gonna find it!)

There must be some kind of way outta here (Yeah I’m goin this way!)

There must be some kind of way outta here (I’m gonna find it yeah I’m gonna find it!)

There must be some kind of way outta here (Oh yeah I’m goin that way!)

Erick Sermon Battle

[LL Cool J: sample repeated] “Battle anybody, I don’t care..”

[Erick Sermon]

Yo, aiyyo it’s crunchtime, time for action, time in

I explain time after time, time and time again

Time’s up, Def Squad called time out

Can’t hold back the shit, so I flip myself aside out

Dramatics, they act in classes, act what

Actin like suckers raw, act enough to get they ass whipped

Ask for the acts and ask for the axe

they get as actors, Beams, Navs, and Ac’s

Still navigatin rap cats, attack on tracks

to flow til I fall off the atlas map

(And stomp a cat) til they frame mats to mat

Not my bloodtype, DNA mismatch

(Aiy-yo) Where there’s a will there’s a way

(Tell ’em Green) But you will get wheeled away

All is said and done, you’re dumb, just dumb

Bust dum-dums at kingdom, take they free-dom

He’s done, E done did it

Easy go, easy come when E come widdit

Come witness, dis +Strictly+

+Unfinished+ +As Usual+ +Never Personal+ +Business+

[Chorus]

Y’all don’t really wanna fuck with that (Hell no!)

It’s not where your head is at (Hell no!)

Y’all don’t really wanna fuck with that (Hell no!)

It’s not where your head is at (Hell no!)

I will.. “Battle anybody, I don’t care..”

E will.. “Battle anybody, I don’t care..”

Sy will.. “Battle anybody, I don’t care..”

We will.. “Battle anybody, I don’t care..”

[Sy Scott]

Yo, yo, yo

Yo sticks and stones break bones but glocks’ll kill you

Revolvers could pop you but automatics’ll drill you

I spit lyrics up til they spill through with blue mold and mildew

Enough to clean these preachers to the fifth pew

The shit stink like pee-yew, G2-D2

versus R2-D2, please move peaceful

Bulbasar smash the Pokemon powers of Pikachu

Faced against Yui Oshamitsu

I speak in two’s like I had two faces

Get deeper than Tomb Raiders, open and shut case

like suitcases, Dark Forces couldn’t take it

if you had NATO backed by Duke Nukem with two lasers

My true nature bite you and your face out

Leave you on the ground pointin finks out

Scatterin towards your safehouse, the illest nigga that’s out

I brainstorm til the whole rap game get rained out

Don’t make me get a hat and start pullin names out

Change the outfit, get the thang out

Make you wish you never came out, get laid out, without an 8-count

Get up, get out, and stop tryin to play house

[Chorus]

[Erick Sermon]

Yo, don’t exchange with E in exhibition, I’m a expert

Feelin the overexhausted from the leg work

Write hate mail through e-mail

Talk on my cell, my cell charged like D-cells

I hate the flows MC’s they use these days

It’s overused, used too much these days

E explain, X mark the spot, I rock the spot

E-Dub the name, and that’s Sy Scott

[Sy Scott]

Who wanna battle? The beat beat badly in battle

In battle I paddle like world-class battlers

In the heat of battle, true MC not abbreviation

Bout to bring cold war to radio stations

I’m Master Tsin, the excellent Master Chen

Spit like I got two mouths connected to an extra chin

My foreign is forum

Embryo MC get brain aborted before they born and made organs

[Chorus]

Erick Sermon All In The Mind

[Erick Sermon]

Oh.. yeahhuhh!

Def Squad

[Chorus: Erick Sermon]

It’s all in the mind.. (Pump pump, lickin shots!) [x7]

(Pump pump, lickin shots)

[Erick Sermon]

Aiyyo it’s the master rap maniac, comin fat like dat

That’s my habitat, with the funk track

From the Boondocks, when I rocks my styles out the docks

Who who? I hear someone knockin at my door

It must be Soup, a black human bein

I think it’s about time for y’all to see him

[Soup]

Sometimes I get blindsided with the flow, I never know

They yell HOE, assumin the motions of a cool flow

Notions of a cool, it’s the S, Ohhhhhh

Never come test, noooooooo, cause even the best’ll have to

go out with the rest, Nestea and a bag of sess for me

Ackninckulous, I kill the weeds in my chest

[Erick Sermon]

Back on the rebound, it’s the magnificents funkdullah

Old schooler, more sole/soul than Dr. Scholl-ah

Freakin wicked so it sticks in your dome

On the chrome microphone so I take it home

Don’t neglect, just respect, the mic check

Don’t forget, I still snap necks and come correct

I leave the microphone burnin (burnin)

Green Eyed Bandit, my ? full name is Erick Sermon

[Soup]

Erick Sermon, sermon with the preaching

I’m fuckin up people’s heads without speaking, without speaking

Clearly, loudly, niggaz crowd around the speaker

to hear me freak the, note like Tamika

But sweeter, sixty phoneta, sneaker if you

peep the, jams and you reap the fields

with the roots and uh, my name is Soup, and uh

I flow like orange juice or Tropicana, and uh

[Chorus]

[Erick Sermon]

Breaker breaker, shh, I hear some static

Stop and get my automatic, the rusty one from the attic

And shoot, or be killed, and if I ill I might cause

a bloodspill so I have to chill and get

totally disgusting on the microphone

Whyyyyyyyyy, because it’s onnnnn (it’s on, IT’S ON)

It’s on (IT’S ON, IT’S ON, IT’S ON, IT’S ON!!)

[Soup]

The industry is a trick, and everyone is on the dick

A cheap trick, just like ? like ?

I peep it, everyone, wants me to sound like

a ?, I’m dyin, before I get up from behind

It’s crushin up the rush of the rhyme in my mind

Drink and trust – blind, think and trust – my, nine

Because, nine lives nine triggers

Fine rhymes equal the nine figures

Yeah the cold cash, I hold a bold stash

Yeah pockets next to my nineteen year old ass

Yeah, God bless the child with his own

God bless the roots and outsiders who zone

Motherfuckers caps, get bucked in the dome

Lick a shot, in his mad packed crazy chrome

[Chorus: Soup shouting over]

[Soup]

Like that, but it’s all words

Words can kill more pens, than guns, and friends

and foes, God knows, I chose the pros

that rose, still froze-n, chose-n, YOU

S-O-U and the P, E, R-I-C-K

Erick Sermon, kickin a rhyme this way

Yeah! It’s all in, your mind

It’s all in, my mind

It’s all in, my mind..

Erick Sermon Clout

[Intro: Erick Sermon (KRS-One)]

S! Sermon! Blastmaster! (YO!)

[Verse 1: KRS-One (Erick Sermon)]

I look like an emcee, talk like an emcee

Walk like an emcee New York type of emcee

Pockets never empty rockets, plenty

You already forget them but you ain’t forget me

Clubs I rock many, in fact, any

That shit talk they talkin could never affend me

I worked for mine, even got jerked for mine

Back in ’89 I used to work the nine

But it led to crime and too many cats doin time

If you into that fine but I’m not I rhyme

You know, you cats runnin from the law too much

That means you either got greedy or you saw too much

You know the streets like the back of your hand

Back of your palm the problem is the cash in your palm

I do what I have to do, you laugh at me I laugh at you

You after me I’m after you

You not passin me I’m passin you

You not askin me I’m askin you

You not blastin me man I’m blastin you

Blastin through, got the whole senior class graspin you

Ask your crew, who commands more street soldiers than the Blastmaster do

I’m the last to the true, now who you?!

Some sensitive new jack awww come here boo boo!

This type of emceein you might not be use to I’ll bruise you (YEAH!)

Get under your skin like tattoos do

This God, you don’t choose me I choose you

My vocabulary will confuse you (Tell ’em)

Like the news do, my Benz is new too

I be on padded cells like I’m coo coo (UH!)

Callin up my nation which is Zulu

NOW WHO YOU?!!

[Verse 2: Erick Sermon]

I’m Sermon yes your determined (UH HUH!)

I’m the best and no need contestin Sermon confirmin you

Mark Furman lyin, stop sighin

Before you end up in Zion, stop cryin

You dyin nigga, you a hoe

Hit the flo’ when I blast the trigga

E Dub not Nas but I’m a nasty nigga

The type that leave ya floatin in the Hudson River, I’ll deliver

Like take out food direct to your door step

You ain’t seen no types of hardcore yet (No!)

You ain’t, shot the five or the four yet (No!)

You ain’t sliced from the ear to the jaw yet

What you doin right there that’s fag (That’s fag!)

And you claimin to havin all this swag

Swag don’t rhyme (Uh huh)

Swag don’t get you in the hall of fame or fap, at least not mine

Swag don’t shine them diamonds

Blindin the fact that you wack, and shouldn’t be rhymin

It’s bad timin for you newcomer

You ain’t me motherfucker! You hot for the summer!

You like Joe Plumber gettin stopped by Barack

Tryin to dominate the spot, and end up shot

Then it’s, slow singin and flower bringin

Cell phone ringin 9-1-1 for closure it’s over

[Chorus: Erick Sermon (KRS-One)]

C to the L to the O-U-T

He’s Blastmaster KRS-One I’m E (YO!)

Dub got clout (Blastmnaster) that’s clout

E Dub got clout (Blastmaster) that’s clout

Erick Sermon Ain’t Me

[Intro: Erick Sermon]

Check one, two, ummm…yeah…huh…yeah..huh

Yeah! Long Island! Huh! Listen!

[Verse 1: Erick Sermon]

Yeah! I be gettin looks and such when I be walkin

Able to bag any chick, when I start talkin

Even white boys be sayin yo E’s awesome

Yeah I got jewels but no need to floss ’em

And I got friends got no need to cross ’em

Or Rick Ross ’em that means to boss ’em

I love the world so I take flights often

And I’m goin anywhere don’t matter what the cost and…

My life’s a movie, you tryin to make one (HUH!)

Up in the club with Bus shootin the fake one

No director, but you got extras

Chick define textures, all up in your sectors

‘Cause sure you ain’t fly, but that’s what I be lookin at

My boy was in the spot, where your chain got tooken at

Live from the streets ain’t no need to C-Span

The most respected, remember you ain’t me man

[Chorus: Erick Sermon (Sample from “Don’t Look Any Further”)]

When I walk in the place they like (OH!) Flash my cash the girls be like (AHHHHH!!!!)

‘Cause I be doin it (WELL! WELL! WELL! WELL! WELL!)

I’m a tell you one time, remember you ain’t me man

‘Cause you don’t cash them checks, you can’t look this fresh

Mostly in 550 you don’t fly this jet

E’vrything brand new you ain’t seen this yet

I’m a say it one time, remember you ain’t me man

[Verse 2: Erick Sermon]

I’m on top of the game no tops on the car

Low top Louis untied no socks

On top of your bitch, she holla off top

Dope top of the line see the shine on the top

Hundred chickens in the kitchen I’m addicted to the (Smell!)

Every hundred thousand digits boy stop it (Inhale!)

Big Coupes in the front (Front!) The boats in the back (Back)

Pool on the roof (What!) Smokin anthrax

Money don’t stop (Stop!) Gunners on lock (Lock!)

The range for the cops so your woman gettin shot (OWWWWW!!!!)

Nobody move and nobody gettin murdered

I talk big money ’cause that boy gettin word

Money come in bags (Bags!) Count it on the floor

‘Til we take it to the club and we pourin on a hoe

And they bring it back to me they know that daddy love his dough

Get the powder up their nose they know that daddy got a load

[Chorus: Erick Sermon (Sample from “Don’t Look Any Further” by Dennis Edwards & Siedah Garrett)]

When I walk in the place they like (OH!) Flash my cash the girls be like (AHHHHH!!!!)

‘Cause I be doin it (WELL! WELL! WELL! WELL! WELL!)

I’m a tell you one time, remember you ain’t me man

‘Cause you don’t cash them checks, you can’t look this fresh

Mostly in 550 you don’t fly this jet

E’vrything brand new you ain’t seen this yet

I’m a say it one time, remember you ain’t me man

[Verse 3: Erick Sermon:]

Enough with that now, back to the feature

No campaign or change for this speaker

Yes I can I’m a do it ’til I’m older

Somewhere around 50, MJ or Oprah

Russell Simmons, Madonna, Chuck D or Bono

Fly motherfucker and they don’t ask condos

Somewhere up in midtown, up in Times Square

When nobody around but me and that there (HUH!)

It could be a maid (Yeah!) It could be a butler (YES!)

It could be a chick (HUH!) She could be a hustler

I’m somethin like Larry, Flint but tougher

No wheelchair, it’s a Leer Jet plusher

All haters suffer, that’s me sayin that

Don’t make a mistake man ’cause I ain’t okayin that

Way before Wayne you could bet, I was stayin strapped

Now I’m up in Ceaser, craps where I’m playin at

[Chorus: Erick Sermon (Sample from “Don’t Look Any Further” by Dennis Edwards & Siedah Garrett)]

When I walk in the place they like (OH!) Flash my cash the girls be like (AHHHHH!!!!)

‘Cause I be doin it (WELL! WELL! WELL! WELL! WELL!)

I’m a tell you one time, remember you ain’t me man

‘Cause you don’t cash them checks, you can’t look this fresh

Mostly in 550 you don’t fly this jet

E’vrything brand new you ain’t seen this yet

I’m a say it one time, remember you ain’t me man

Erick Sermon Clutch

[Verse 1: Erick Sermon]

I’m the type of nigga you need in the clutch

Anybody disrespecting the brand they get touched

Def Squad, Wu we coming through can’t you tell a

Bunch of niggas walking down the block like it’s Selma

But we strapped with an automat’

Just in case they act up we fighting back

Sorry Martin

I ain’t the one startin’

I’m home chillin’

I gotta cook and do homework with my children

But I’m back at it, rhyme and beat makin’

This dope like a habit, these cats got to have it

The MP breakdown, I’m beatin’ on the tablet

I ain’t lettin’ no one breathe go ask [?]

Enoughs enough, the stuff ya’ll releasin’

Had to call Method Man up to start beastin’

Everybody scared to speak up

What you afraid of, you don’t wanna get beat up?

Fuck it, you suck, I said it

Ease up, I’m not Tyson but it hit you it freeze ups

Schwarzenegger

I got a cop lady-friend that gave me a tazer

So I’m gon go to jail for life for killing a hater

So while I’m in the streets I’m getting paper

Lockin’ down the blocks don’t fuck around and get shot homie

Duke you soft, comforter

These chicks ain’t loyal my homeboy, he humpin’ her

Fuck Ya’ll

[Hook: Erick Sermon]

I’m the type of nigga you need in the clutch

Anybody disrespecting the brand they get touched

Def Squad, Wu we coming through can’t you tell a

Bunch of niggas walking down the block like it’s Selma

But we strapped with an automat’

Just in case they act up we fighting back

Sorry Martin

I ain’t the one startin’

I’m home chillin’

I gotta cook and do homework with my children

METH

[Verse 2: Method Man]

E, check they persona non grata

Prizing in the game one nada

I guzzle Ghost Lager

You still a 40 thief, ali baba

Corner store robber I feel sorry for your mama

I’m a menace, a monster

Meth lab chemist with the contra, no limit

They only see murder they ain’t in it

Imposters, pop one minute then they mobsters

We get it

Pretend it went pop or it’s hot, love pretendin’

I ain’t playin’ the fun ended

Still not a player like Big Pun

No pun intended

We in these tenements, big guns second a minute

Gives you the right to bear one, I recommend it

You timid, here’s a middle finger, you finished

This other middle finger’s for anybody offended

Them gimmicks, see I spot ’em just like a blemish

I criticize the image, cause everybody’s a critic

[Hook: Erick Sermon]

I’m the type of nigga you need in the clutch

Anybody disrespecting the brand they get touched

Def Squad, Wu we coming through can’t you tell a

Bunch of niggas walking down the block like it’s Selma

But we strapped with an automat’

Just in case they act up we fighting back

Sorry Martin

I ain’t the one startin’

I’m home chillin’

I gotta cook and do homework

[Verse 3: Redman]

Yo, welcome everyone to my thoughts

I carry the hammer like judge in court

The streets them gone wild

Right through the cannabis plant

And when I chant every verse you can actually see the sound cloud

Wow

Redman you done grown up

Grown man do grown man shit what you expect

Rap and drug dealing, the same thing

The strength depends on yo’ connects

I was taught well

Never wrote a verse sittin’ in a cell

But I’m cold wid’ it, a little sickle in his cell

Chicks love a nigga they trippin’ on his cell

And I tell ’em my album out, hit me with a sale

My bruh said when I rap, talk to ’em

I said cool I might as well, harpoon ’em

I got a gun from x boxing on

Women and step kids they gotta duck when the step pops

That’s why I’m international

Tryna’ turn up and get beat down

This is hip hop

You wanna walk in my shoes, I’m like

Pardon you I got Jordans on, and them are flip flops

[Hook: Erick Sermon]

I’m the type of nigga you need in the clutch

Anybody disrespecting the brand they get touched

Def Squad, Wu we coming through can’t you tell a

Bunch of niggas walking down the block like it’s Selma

But we strapped with an automat’

Just in case they act up we fighting back

Sorry Martin

I ain’t the one startin’

I’m home chillin’

I gotta cook and do homework with my children