Erick Sermon - Da Ill Out lyrics

[Erick Sermon] Yo Reggie, I'mout [Jamal] T-ree F Squad Muddy Waters Don't get it twisted... n***a [Redman] Aiyyo everybody in this motherf**er will get touched f** such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs Rock that a** to sleep with discrete techniques I beez that, freak of the week like I made Knee Deep Hold up! Rotate around the solar, badder than Cobra Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps Folgers I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok Without the MSG and chopped celery See, I made it, my flavor situated From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated Plus, I'm thick like Quakers on papers Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases Lettering, and the medicine, that I'm swallowin Get you hollerin, like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him In the chest, I roll with two stacks of Tecs And mad n***as in sets that'll roll up in your rest UHH! Mister Fantastic's crafted off that 50 sack of a** kick When I'm blasted, my mathematics get drastic That you can't see with bifocals Watchin MC's go up and down like stock brokers I leave your brains on tilt, with ill sk**s that's milk That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vanderbilt I'm poppin mad sh**, plus I can back it Your man'll be like "Yo, get that dust off yo' jacket" [Keith Murray] It ain't a test or quiz that my Squad can win Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids, get biz You'll digest, multiple stab wounds to the chest Then I copycat, k** the rest With no method to my madness Bless the apparatus with the baddest Determined to be the last man, standin on the planet You'll get attached, like a blood s**in' leech When you fall into my rhythm of speech Your ears get embraced with a touch of the ba** Head get wrapped up, neck get thrown in a neck brace Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who? Will ironically chronically murder you and your crew My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive See I get to the bottom of the problem, and make sh** give Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master Cast to the ma**es grabs the mic Ten dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after (Tweek, Tweek) To my Squad, there's no matches, we bashes Do photo flashes in all flavor S-cla**es Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back Tie you up, throw you in the Ac' A public figure, who walks around with a jaded jigger Cause I gives a f** about another n***a, word up [Jamal] Muddy Waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble f** with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic Playin that big sh** get broke down microscopic Bring it back keep the track ringin, with the ba**line It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace Around and round, avoidin the time to put it down Now's the time here yeah [Erick Sermon] Clown where, pick a spot Neutral grounds or not, we give a f**, lick a shot [Jamal] Gangsta, so called k**in, cap peelin Playalistic, I mean is all that sh** realistic Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight Night fall might call your life, sh** is trife On these evil streets after dark n***as gettin sparked left and outlined in chalk New day, seriously this whole sh**'s twisted (is it man) It's me bombin on these n***as sh**list and Mally G Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G Hopin to rise in thee, industry with E The villain's had it cause ahead (word up yeah) k**in my psychosomatic pattern mad (yeah) [Erick Sermon] Y'all know, uhh, yeah, Muddy Waters We out for nine-seven, word up, peace