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Erick Sermon: |
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It's the E, and |
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I'm smokin'. |
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Wild like |
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Tone Loc, |
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I'm roastin, bakin' |
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MCs, the E |
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I'm not jokin' so back up, punk, slack up. |
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Watch your weak posse, before they get smacked up. |
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One by ONE, two by |
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TWO, three by |
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THREE, Yo |
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P... [Parrish: What's Up, E.D.?] |
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Pass the Uzi, to blow up, any wack |
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MC that show up, there goes one, blast 'im now. [E, hold up.] * |
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Don't make me wait-wait* because it might be too late, the punk might escape, and buck whyle, and in fact, bite my style, and |
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I'm-a catch a bullshit charge, plus trial. |
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It's my thing to swing, your first mistake to bring a duck |
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MC that can't hang. |
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Don't forget, |
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I'm crazy swift. |
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My name is |
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Erick Sermon [yeah, and I'm Parrish Smith] |
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I could act foolish, start blastin'. |
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Ha ha ha ha, now who's laughin'? |
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I'm-a let ya slide, but ya owe me, next time you see me... [...holler like ya know me!] |
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I'm mad... |
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Refrain: (Here's a little story, I've gots to tell) {scratching} (I'm mad!) 4x |
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Parrish: My life story |
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I tell straight from the heart. |
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When suckers tried to crash my shit straight from start. |
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A young black kid destined for success, no |
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Old Gold, no cocaine, or buddha cess. |
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Straight up hard work. |
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No sleep and no shorts. |
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Brainstormin' with the skills that |
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Pop Duke taught. |
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To keep swingin', yeah, and not to quit. |
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Now I ride the |
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Benz, you ride the dick, with your punk friends, straight up pussy from |
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Punk City, my attitude's fucked up and real shitty. |
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From the backstabbers, yeah my so-called friends, who swim in my pool. |
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When it's time, flex the |
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Benz, around town, windows down at the |
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South Town, |
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Cool J tape or |
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K-Solo "Spellbound" |
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With fly girlies dippin, brothers grippin' and sippin' |
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Old Gold, |
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Red Bull, hands on my dick and |
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I'm just lampin' with my |
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EK shades, truck-jewels, obviously the man's paid. |
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But of course not, brother can't get his props like for instance, when |
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I cruise up the block in my 560 lampin' on my |
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Metro phone, chrome kit beamin' all off your dome. |
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But like a sucka, yeah, you looked the other way |
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That's how |
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I knew you're on my dick kid, but it's okay. |
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It's normal, relax, your whole head's busted. |
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Caught in the rap skit, ya couldn't be trusted. |
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Cuz my sounds pound from here to |
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Okinowi...{kiss} peace and |
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I'm ouuuutie! |
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Refrain Erick: |
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Stay tuned to this last episode, when |
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I rock the house and the mic explodes. |
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This is not the buckwild style that |
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I be usin', in fact black, it causes {mass confusion} |
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It's a fallout, when sucker |
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MCs and crowds call out my name, oh what a shame |
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I got {fame!} |
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Parrish: I'm not a new jack, my rhymes are not wack, and in fact, |
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I'm like Clint |
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Eastwood, 'stead of bullets, rhymes |
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I pack in my flow gun, so son, ya better run, cuz when it comes to hostage and prisoners, we take none. |
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We move wax like kilos ...{scratch} and when my jam hits the streets, the sounds explode. |
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Watch the right hook, duck the death blow jack, |
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I wonder where the |
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E and the |
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P's at... [Can they do it again?] |
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You bet your ass, black. [See you in '91] |
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Until things get the bozack... [I'm mad...] |
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Refrain |
