Erick Sermon - Future Thug (feat. Redman) lyrics

[Verse One: Erick Sermon] Aiyyo everybody hands up Run yo' bling bling, n***a boy stand up It's E-Dub, wha**up? Yeah I'm bouncin, large amounts of cash we countin That stand tall like mountains To bring the drama, it takes a second man (that's it) One wrong move, "Bring the Pain" like Method Man It's your boy Damnit, it's the Bandit, new Hummer in transit Twenty-seven inches come standard (YO!) This my people, whether drivin the Benz, the Pinto Or the Regal, the Range Rover, the Beatle (uh) I'm in New York now but I represent the SWATS of A-Town When I touch down amid grounds Me and L-Dub and Redman, that's it mo'f**ah You heard what I said man, that's real (what the deal) It's E-Dub, pronounce it right Eyes green like Kryptonite, so good night! [Chorus] What y'all want? Y'all want this? We give it to ya, we future thugs We up in yo' crib like, we up in yo' club like We up in yo' hood like, we future thugs [Verse Two: 11/29] Where n***as be thinkin the, Cadillac's on 23's b**h bring with the DVD's, old school bucket seats South Memphis to College P, Decatur to N.Y.C Top droppin that Benz 'til it, came with the leather seat Back up off my whip or I jump out and cause a tragedy St. Louis to Florida, from N.Y. to Tennessee Them boys ride 20's, them n***as from the hay Them boys flickin Bentleys, Benz, Lex and Escalades Them boys ride clean, twist and turnin in yo' face With that chameleon paint, fresh as {?} I pull up in a fo'-fo'-two with E-Dub With a convertible top on the Chevy, we like what Def Squad in this piece, you want it we give it to ya You don't want no trouble with me, I might do ya And tear the club up with E-Dub and that n***a {*bang*} Better respect my gangsta I stay with two Rugers [Chorus] [Verse Three: Redman] Yo, I ain't a thug but I do thug things n***a so hold me down Forty round, caliber spitter, that's how the shorty crown Run with gordy hounds for 40 miles then ignore me now Duck +Motowns+ than Barry Gordy found, sorry clown! Super future thug, 12 shoe shoot you through the rug James Bond, watch on my arm, tellin me who to truck My God's my gun, don't need him since cerebreal co*k Beat him size ammo three to five mammal we the Gods That'll sh** on your turf, that'll get in your skirt I heard Alicia, so my dick give what a woman is worth I make them n***as blow... then hide 'em inside 'em My noggin is strange when them dogs is ridin Cause I'ma, cheap f**er, street usher, eat supper with Pack of wolves that act a fool, blood on they upper lip Need a n***a, I'm that n***a to call, n***a to draw Chainsaws to the brawl, cuttin ya ligaments off [Chorus]