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