[erick sermon]
Oh.. yeahhuhh!
Def squad
Chorus: erick sermon
It’s all in the mind.. (pump pumplickin shots!) *7x*
(pump pumplickin shots)
[erick sermon]
Aiyyo it’s the master rap maniaccomin fat like dat
That’s my habitatwith the funk track
From the boondockswhen I rocks my styles out the docks
Who who? I hear someone knockin at my door
It must be soupa black human bein
I think it’s about time for y’all to see him
[soup]
Sometimes I get blindsided with the flowI never know
They yell hoeassumin the motions of a cool flow
Notions of a coolit’s the sohhhhhh
Never come testnoooooooocause even the best’ll have to
Go out with the restnestea and a bag of sess for me
AckninckulousI kill the weeds in my chest
[erick sermon]
Back on the reboundit’s the magnificents funkdullah
Old schoolermore sole/soul than dr. scholl-ah
Freakin wicked so it sticks in your dome
On the chrome microphone so I take it home
Don’t neglectjust respectthe mic check
Don’t forgetI still snap necks and come correct
I leave the microphone burnin (burnin)
Green eyed banditmy ? full name is erick sermon
[soup]
Erick sermonsermon with the preaching
I’m fuckin up people’s heads without speakingwithout speaking
Clearlyloudlyniggaz crowd around the speaker
To hear me freak thenote like tamika
But sweetersixty phonetasneaker if you
Peep thejams and you reap the fields
With the roots and uhmy name is soupand uh
I flow like orange juice or tropicanaand uh
Chorus
[erick sermon]
Breaker breakershhI hear some static
Stop and get my automaticthe rusty one from the attic
And shootor be killedand if I ill I might cause
A bloodspill so I have to chill and get
Totally disgusting on the microphone
Whyyyyyyyyybecause it’s onnnnn (it’s onit’s on)
It’s on (it’s onit’s onit’s onit’s on!!)
[soup]
The industry is a trickand everyone is on the dick
A cheap trickjust like ? like ?
I peep iteveryonewants me to sound like
A ?I’m dyinbefore I get up from behind
It’s crushin up the rush of the rhyme in my mind
Drink and trust — blindthink and trust — mynine
Becausenine lives nine triggers
Fine rhymes equal the nine figures
Yeah the cold cashI hold a bold stash
Yeah pockets next to my nineteen year old ass
YeahGod bless the child with his own
God bless the roots and outsiders who zone
Motherfuckers capsget bucked in the dome
Lick a shotin his mad packed crazy chrome
Chorus (+ soup shouting over)
[soup]
Like thatbut it’s all words
Words can kill more pensthan gunsand friends
And foesGod knowsI chose the pros
That rosestill froze-nchose-nyou
S-o-u and the per-i-c-k
Erick sermonkickin a rhyme this way
Yeah! it’s all inyour mind
It’s all inmy mind
It’s all inmy mind..