Erick Sermon:
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It's the E, and I'm smokin'. Wild like Tone Loc, I'm roastin, bakin' MCs,
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the E 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 TWO, three by THREE, Yo P...
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[Parrish: What's Up, E.D.?]
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Pass the Uzi, to blow up, any wack MC that show up,
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there goes one, blast 'im now.
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[E, hold up.]
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*Don't make me wait-wait* because it might be too late, the punk might escape,
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and buck whyle, and in fact, bite my style, and I'm-a catch a bullshit charge,
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plus trial.
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It's my thing to swing, your first mistake to bring a duck MC that can't hang.
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Don't forget, I'm crazy swift. My name is Erick Sermon
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[yeah, and I'm Parrish Smith]
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I could act foolish, start blastin'. 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...
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[...holler like ya know me!]
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I'm mad...
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Refrain:
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(Here's a little story, I've gots to tell) {scratching} (I'm mad!) 4x
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Parrish:
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My life story 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 Old Gold, no cocaine, or buddha cess.
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Straight up hard work. No sleep and no shorts.
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Brainstormin' with the skills that Pop Duke taught.
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To keep swingin', yeah, and not to quit.
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Now I ride the Benz, you ride the dick, with your punk friends,
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straight up pussy from Punk City, my attitude's fucked up and real shitty.
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From the backstabbers, yeah my so-called friends,
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who swim in my pool. When it's time, flex the Benz,
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around town, windows down at the South Town, Cool J tape or K-Solo "Spellbound"
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With fly girlies dippin, brothers grippin' and sippin'
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Old Gold, Red Bull, hands on my dick and
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I'm just lampin' with my EK shades, truck-jewels, obviously the man's paid.
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But of course not, brother can't get his props
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like for instance, when I cruise up the block
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in my 560 lampin' on my 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 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 Okinowi...{kiss} peace and I'm ouuuutie!
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Refrain
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Erick:
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Stay tuned to this last episode, when I rock the house and the mic explodes.
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This is not the buckwild style that I be usin', in fact black,
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it causes {mass confusion}
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It's a fallout, when sucker MCs and crowds call out my name,
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oh what a shame I got {fame!}
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Parrish:
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I'm not a new jack, my rhymes are not wack, and in fact,
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I'm like Clint Eastwood, 'stead of bullets, rhymes I pack
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in my flow gun, so son, ya better run,
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cuz when it comes to hostage and prisoners, we take none.
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We move wax like kilos ...{scratch}
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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 E and the P's at...
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[Can they do it again?] You bet your ass, black.
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[See you in '91] Until things get the bozack... [I'm mad...]
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Refrain
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-----------------
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I'm Mad
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EPMD |