Erick Sermon - Clout lyrics

[Intro: Erick Sermon (KRS-One)] S! Sermon! Blastmaster! (YO!) [Verse 1: KRS-One (Erick Sermon)] I look like an emcee, talk like an emcee Walk like an emcee New York type of emcee Pockets never empty rockets, plenty You already forget them but you ain't forget me Clubs I rock many, in fact, any That sh** talk they talkin could never affend me I worked for mine, even got jerked for mine Back in '89 I used to work the nine But it led to crime and too many cats doin time If you into that fine but I'm not I rhyme You know, you cats runnin from the law too much That means you either got greedy or you saw too much You know the streets like the back of your hand Back of your palm the problem is the cash in your palm I do what I have to do, you laugh at me I laugh at you You after me I'm after you You not pa**in me I'm pa**in you You not askin me I'm askin you You not blastin me man I'm blastin you Blastin through, got the whole senior cla** graspin you Ask your crew, who commands more street soldiers than the Blastmaster do I'm the last to the true, now who you?! Some sensitive new jack awww come here boo boo! This type of emceein you might not be use to I'll bruise you (YEAH!) Get under your skin like tattoos do This God, you don't choose me I choose you My vocabulary will confuse you (Tell 'em) Like the news do, my Benz is new too I be on padded cells like I'm coo coo (UH!) Callin up my nation which is Zulu NOW WHO YOU?!! [Verse 2: Erick Sermon] I'm Sermon yes your determined (UH HUH!) I'm the best and no need contestin Sermon confirmin you Mark Furman lyin, stop sighin Before you end up in Zion, stop cryin You dyin n***a, you a hoe Hit the flo' when I blast the trigga E Dub not Nas but I'm a nasty n***a The type that leave ya floatin in the Hudson River, I'll deliver Like take out food direct to your door step You ain't seen no types of hardcore yet (No!) You ain't, shot the five or the four yet (No!) You ain't sliced from the ear to the jaw yet What you doin right there that's f*g (That's f*g!) And you claimin to havin all this swag Swag don't rhyme (Uh huh) Swag don't get you in the hall of fame or fap, at least not mine Swag don't shine them diamonds Blindin the fact that you wack, and shouldn't be rhymin It's bad timin for you newcomer You ain't me motherf**er! You hot for the summer! You like Joe Plumber gettin stopped by Barack Tryin to dominate the spot, and end up shot Then it's, slow singin and flower bringin Cell phone ringin 9-1-1 for closure it's over [Chorus: Erick Sermon (KRS-One)] C to the L to the O-U-T He's Blastmaster KRS-One I'm E (YO!) Dub got clout (Blastmnaster) that's clout E Dub got clout (Blastmaster) that's clout