[PMD] Yeh.. Erick Sermon.. EPMD.. check it
|
[E-Dub] Redman.. Method Man.. Lady Luck.. Def Jam
|
[PMD] Erick and Parrish Millenium Ducats
|
Hold me down, hold me down [echoes]
|
|
Uhh.. yo!
|
I grab the mic and grip it hard like it's my last time to shine
|
I want the chrome and the cream so I put it down for mine
|
Ill cat, slick talk, slang New York
|
To break it down to straight English, what the fuck you want?
|
Remember me? You punk faggot crab emcee
|
Get your shit broke in half for fuckin around with P
|
Aiyyo strike two, my style Brooklyn like the Zoo
|
Hey you, look nigga, one more strike you through
|
Word is bi-dond, rock Esco, FUBU, and Phat Fi-darm
|
Every time I get my spit on, no doubt, I spark the gridiron
|
I step up and bless the track and spit a jewel
|
We keeps cool, no need for static, I strap tools
|
Next up!
|
|
[E-Dub] Yo I believe that's me
|
[PMD] Yo, get on the mic and rock the Symphony
|
|
[Erick Sermon]
|
Yo P!
|
Time to rock, the sound I got, it reigns hot
|
Makin necks snap back, like a slingshot
|
E hustle, and muscle my way in
|
then tussle for days in, on my own with guns blazin
|
Not for the fun of it, just for those who want me to run it
|
Then leave them like -- who done it?
|
Sucka duck, I do what I feel right now
|
When I spit the illest shit, cats be like, "Wow!"
|
YO! I get looks when I'm in the place
|
That's that nigga, makin you +Smile+ with Scarface
|
Uhh, +It Ain't My Fault+, that my style Silkk enough to Shock ya
|
Hit you with the fifth, block-a block-a
|
If I get caught you can bet I'll blow trial
|
Be +Downtown Swingin+, M.O.P. style
|
Next up!
|
|
[Red] Yo yo it's Funk D.O.C.
|
[E-Dub] Yo, you're on the mic to rock the Symphony
|
|
[Redman]
|
HeHAHHH! Yo yo
|
Did you ever think you would catch a cap?
|
Yo did you ever think you would get a slap?
|
Yo did you ever think you would get robbed
|
at gunpoint, stripped and thrown out the car?
|
It's Funk Doc, you know my name HOE
|
My style dirty underground, or Ukraine po'
|
When it hits you, pain pumps Kool-Aid, through the vein and shit
|
Snatch the trap then I Dash like Damon did
|
Doc, walk _Thin Red Lines_ to shell shock
|
Hairlock with fuckin broads in nail shops
|
Hydro? Got more bags than bellhops
|
Two thousand Benz on my eight by ten PICTURE
|
Papichu', slayin crews in ICU
|
Battlin, usin hockey rules
|
For Keith Murray, Doc gon' cock these tools
|
Rollin down like dice in Yahtzee fool!
|
I "Just Do It" like Nike, outta 'Bama
|
with ten kids with hammers, hooked to a camper!
|
Yo next up
|
|
[Meth] It's the G-O-D
|
[Red] Yo yo, get on the mic for the Symphony
|
|
[Method]
|
Youth on the move, payin them dues, nuttin to lose
|
Huh, street kids, broken and bruised, eyein yo' jewels
|
Huh, bad news, barin they souls through rhymin blues
|
_Hardcore_! To make them brothers act fool
|
Hands on the steel, flip you heads over heel [sniff]
|
Smell the daffodils from the lyric overkill [sniff]
|
Feelin like the mack inside a Cadillac Seville [screech]
|
Too ill, on cuts, the Barber of Seville - fi-ga-ro!
|
The sky is fallin - GERONIMO!
|
I feel my high comin down.. LOOKOUT BELOW!
|
AIYYO! Dead that roach clip and spark another
|
Chickenhawks, playin theyselves like Parker Brothers
|
I rock for the low-class, from Locash
|
The broke-assed, even rock for trailer park trash
|
Yeah yeah, the God on your block like Godzilla
|
Yeah yeah -- she gave away my pussy I'ma kill her
|
John John phenom-enon, in Japan they call me Ichiban
|
Wu-Tang Clan, numba won!
|
In the whole nine, I hold mine
|
Keep playin with it kid, you might go blind - jerkoff!
|
Fuck them a.k.a., for now it's just Meth
|
That's it, that's all, solo, single no more no less
|
|
[all] NEXT UP!
|
[Lady] I believe that's me
|
[all] BASTARD!
|
[PMD] Get on the mic and rock the Symphony
|
|
[Lady Luck]
|
Mrs. Stop Drop and Roll, rocks top the told
|
Hot, even though dames is froze
|
Pop close range at foes, and blaze them hoes
|
Leave em with they brains exposed, and stains on clothes
|
Y'all better change your flows, hear how Luck spittin?
|
Stay drunk-pissed in the S-Type, stay whippin *screech*
|
When the guns spittin, duck or get hittin
|
It's written, we |