Refrain:
[Comin` straight from the Underground] 4x
Erick Sermon:
As I pump up a brand new funk swing
and bring back the chill of thrill from B.B. King.
Old fashioned is the way that I be waxin` a MC
I bust a grill and the reaction I check
inspect make sure the head`s wrecked;
[crunch] snap a neck for some live effects.
A machine my functioning that`s mean.
I stay together my man like Al Green.
I`m a slayer, the E-R-I-C-K and I`m back
to attack a punk chump that ain`t sayin` jack.
Boom, I`m buckwild when I`m stoned,
I close only one eye like a cyclone.
So I throw on my black shades that`s rhinestone,
summer to my Benz that`s outlined in chrome.
I`m the Grand Royal MC, I`m no joke.
I hit like a Phillie Blunt when it`s toked.
I smoke, an MC well-done, he gets done.
I`m knockin` out wack MCs like Michael Nunn.
Full-power, one punch, crunch, I`m throwin` bolos.
I`m strapped heavy, my handguns that`s solo.
I`m packed when it`s time to get down.
Cuz Erick Sermon`s comin` straight from the Underground...
Refrain 4x
PMD:
Okie dokie. My mind gets slow-pokey when I toke the
bull from a Phillie Blunt and I hope me
Old Gold is cold when I pop the cap.
Take a sip and then blitz, then crack a back with a rhyme sack.
Cuz I`m too smooth, pay my dues, and can`t lose.
I`m Top Gun, pullin` bitches like Tom Cruise.
And my main man, D-Wade, still gets paid.
And in the off-season, we vacate in the shade.
So all hail the Mary, crack the Moet,
blast the boom-box, then act like George and Jet-son.
Cuz my style, similar to Tae Kwon Do, but hey-yo,
I don`t kick or throw stars, this brother flows
to the funk track, with 808 drops for prop the top
of druggin` or thuggin, D.T.s or cops.
I say, no to blow and yes to cess and I suggest
you put a buck on Lotto, and if you win, you should invest
in a new grill, Bill, cuz I rock non- until
the Fat Lady sings, or Brooklyn starts to ill.
There`s a fat chance, with the brother bistro,
cuz I`m the master of the quadraverb and the echo.
There`s no time to stop, so P keep on steppin`
on the edge of the frame of the mind, the nine is the weapon.
That I choose to squeeze when a brother acts wild.
One slug to the head, mafioso style.
You catch a Universal beat down with sounds that pound,
watch yourself son, I`m comin` straight from the underground.
Refrain 2x
