Erick Sermon: It´s the E, and I´m smokin´. Wild like Tone Loc, I´m roastin, bakin´ MCs, the E I´m not jokin´ so back up, punk, slack up. Watch your weak posse, before they get smacked up.
One by ONE, two by TWO, three by THREE, Yo P... [Parrish: What´s Up, E.D.?] Pass the Uzi, to blow up, any wack MC that show up, there goes one, blast ´im now. [E, hold up.] *Don´t make me wait-wait* because it might be too late, the punk might escape, and buck whyle, and in fact, bite my style, and I´m-a catch a bullshit charge, plus trial. It´s my thing to swing, your first mistake to bring a duck MC that can´t hang. Don´t forget, I´m crazy swift. My name is Erick Sermon [yeah, and I´m Parrish Smith] I could act foolish, start blastin´. Ha ha ha ha, now who´s laughin´?
I´m-a let ya slide, but ya owe me, next time you see me... [...holler like ya know me!] I´m mad...
Refrain: (Here´s a little story, I´ve gots to tell) {scratching} (I´m mad!) 4x
Parrish: My life story I tell straight from the heart. When suckers tried to crash my shit straight from start. A young black kid destined for success, no Old Gold, no cocaine, or buddha cess. Straight up hard work. No sleep and no shorts. Brainstormin´ with the skills that Pop Duke taught.
To keep swingin´, yeah, and not to quit. Now I ride the Benz, you ride the dick, with your punk friends, straight up pussy from Punk City, my attitude´s fucked up and real shitty. From the backstabbers, yeah my so-called friends, who swim in my pool. When it´s time, flex the Benz, around town, windows down at the South Town, Cool J tape or K-Solo "Spellbound" With fly girlies dippin, brothers grippin´ and sippin´ Old Gold, Red Bull, hands on my dick and I´m just lampin´ with my EK shades, truck-jewels, obviously the man´s paid. But of course not, brother can´t get his props like for instance, when I cruise up the block in my 560 lampin´ on my Metro phone, chrome kit beamin´ all off your dome.
But like a sucka, yeah, you looked the other way That´s how I knew you´re on my dick kid, but it´s okay. It´s normal, relax, your whole head´s busted. Caught in the rap skit, ya couldn´t be trusted. Cuz my sounds pound from here to Okinowi...{kiss} peace and I´m ouuuutie!
Refrain
Erick: Stay tuned to this last episode, when I rock the house and the mic explodes. This is not the buckwild style that I be usin´, in fact black, it causes {mass confusion} It´s a fallout, when sucker MCs and crowds call out my name,
oh what a shame I got {fame!} Parrish: I´m not a new jack, my rhymes are not wack, and in fact, I´m like Clint Eastwood, ´stead of bullets, rhymes I pack in my flow gun, so son, ya better run, cuz when it comes to hostage and prisoners, we take none. We move wax like kilos ...{scratch} and when my jam hits the streets, the sounds explode. Watch the right hook, duck the death blow jack, I wonder where the E and the P´s at... [Can they do it again?] You bet your ass, black. [See you in ´91] Until things get the bozack... [I´m mad...]
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