Refrain:
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[Comin' straight from the Underground] 4x
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Erick Sermon:
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As I pump up a brand new funk swing,
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and bring back the chill of thrill from B.B. King.
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Old fashioned is the way that I be waxin' a MC,
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I bust a grill, and the reaction I check,
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inspect, make sure the head's wrecked;
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[crunch] snap a neck for some live effects.
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A machine, my functioning, that's mean.
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I stay together, my man, like Al Green.
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I'm a slayer, the E-R-I-C-K and I'm back
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to attack a punk chump that ain't sayin' jack.
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Boom, I'm buckwild when I'm stoned,
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I close only one eye like a cyclone.
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So I throw on my black shades that's rhinestone,
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summer to my Benz that's outlined in chrome.
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I'm the Grand Royal MC, I'm no joke.
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I hit like a Phillie Blunt when it's toked.
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I smoke, an MC well-done, he gets done.
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I'm knockin' out wack MCs like Michael Nunn.
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Full-power, one punch, crunch, I'm throwin' bolos.
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I'm strapped heavy, my handguns that's solo.
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I'm packed when it's time to get down.
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Cuz Erick Sermon's comin' straight from the Underground...
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Refrain 4x
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PMD:
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Okie dokie. My mind gets slow-pokey when I toke the
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bull from a Phillie Blunt and I hope me
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Old Gold is cold when I pop the cap.
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Take a sip and then blitz, then crack a back with a rhyme sack.
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Cuz I'm too smooth, pay my dues, and can't lose.
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I'm Top Gun, pullin' bitches like Tom Cruise.
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And my main man, D-Wade, still gets paid.
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And in the off-season, we vacate in the shade.
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So all hail the Mary, crack the Moet,
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blast the boom-box, then act like George and Jet-son.
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Cuz my style, similar to Tae Kwon Do, but hey-yo,
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I don't kick or throw stars, this brother flows
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to the funk track, with 808 drops for prop the top
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of druggin' or thuggin, D.T.s or cops.
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I say, no to blow and yes to cess and I suggest
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you put a buck on Lotto, and if you win, you should invest
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in a new grill, Bill, cuz I rock non- until
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the Fat Lady sings, or Brooklyn starts to ill.
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There's a fat chance, with the brother bistro,
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cuz I'm the master of the quadraverb and the echo.
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There's no time to stop, so P keep on steppin'
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on the edge of the frame of the mind, the nine is the weapon.
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That I choose to squeeze when a brother acts wild.
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One slug to the head, mafioso style.
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You catch a Universal beat down with sounds that pound,
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watch yourself son, I'm comin' straight from the underground.
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Refrain 2x
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-----------------
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Underground
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EPMD |