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
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