Verse One: Erick Sermon



Whoo! Ah ah, ayahh, ahh ahh ahh

And you don't stop, ahh ahh, word is bond, word is bond

Now introducing the sound from the ghetto

E Double and Too $hort, what the fuck you thought?

I come with the ruckus, It's My Thing when I swing

I'm Born to Mack, always strapped, with the black gat

Who out there I swear boy wanna get touched

Roll up, and catch a slug to the chest, so DUCK

I talk the talk, walk the walk, now nigga

Five hundred S drivin with hand on trigger

Crazy Lestat, check my track record

Everything I touch is gold since eighteen years old

So what that mean? I roll the blunt

and puff the indo smoke in it, I trip in a minute

Crazy hoes be jockin me cuz I be rockin B

Sewin up like Monopoly, nobody's stoppin me

Dig it, Funkdafied like Brat, how's that?

I stick and move on tracks while I smoke a twenty sack

Who said the E can't rock? That's bullshit

Suck my dick and get a big fat lick of my balls

You wanna brawl? Punk I thought not

You might get beat down and stomped like Sasquatch

Your girl, like Keith Sweat, I wanna fuck her

Psych, I already stuck her

I got rhymes to make your whole head swell up

Here's an icepack homeboy shut the hell up

I rock the mic with Too $hort, y'all niggaz know what's happenin

Everything he touch goes platinum

Eyeeaaaah!



Verse Two: Too $hort



I made a half a million in a week

And every nigga on the street got a tape playin me

You can't believe it? Erick Sermon, rollin with $hort

Rolled from California all the way to New York

In big Benzes, G hooked it up

Now we trying to squash all that EastWest stuff

We spent years in the studio makin funky tracks

Signed a bunch of niggaz with some tigh