Lyrics Listen - Erick Sermon

Hit it hard Yeah, yeah,
When I stick it she be like (uh) Yeah,
Pimpin, I run up right inside 'em, yeah
Yo, it goes hey you, guess what,
Guess who gets what I snatch baguettes, you get what you get,
Guess what Guess what,
You get it and forget it like guess what Guess what get done to
Special guests that can't guess what He goin on when Sy be goin off
In the cross my Squad run tracks like motocross I write words I read
And then re-word 'em Same word,
Rework 'em without re-wordin 'em Word perfect for workin with 'em
Workmen do homework, men at work in the network workin system Yeah,
I overwork, work the middle Work and turn your homework workbook
Against you In the range of a roundabout ratio I merry-go-round
Around around the radio Around around and away we
Go Everytime Sy bust down then it's up up away you go
Now what do you niggas think about this A jam
For the streets that you can't resist So hustle to this,
Bang to this Get your money to this,
Yeah listen to this Now what do you bitches think about this A jam
For the clubs that you can't resist So shake to
This, freak to this Drink up to this, yeah listen to this
Uhh, huh E-Dub,
I'm known like the Rucker Fucker,
Comin through like a redneck trucker Nother, man down,
Call 9-1-1 I stash that so they can't find my gun I'm in the woods
Like hikers, bikers, campers Antlers,
Bears snakes and long- leg tarantulas Uh,
E-Dub I got balls If I get chased pon' de river like Sean Paul,
Believe it I'm on the fish neck, like jet- skis I killed Romeo,
Along with Jet Li And messin with the E be
Incomparable Get romped like Romper Room, a one man platoon
Oh I say, I'm Andrew Dice clay filthy mouth and also fuck y'all
You wanna get physical we touch y'all Haters we
Appreciate the love so - thank you very much y'all

Last but not least,
Keith wreck shop comfortably When I flow,
I fuck up your street credibility Def Squad get busy often When it
Comes to chicks we got more tricks than a dolphin You see the new
E-Dub spin when I pull up Ecko sweatsuit with the hood up This shit
Is so hot you could cook an egg on it So I sunny-side up,
Buttered toast my opponents I take the drama to the middle of the
Street Or any nigga that's feelin himself like Tweet Kid you sonned
Out, let me speak to your father Matter of fact, hold these here,
And don't even bother We come through with the nines poppin Niggas
Get so quiet,
You can hear rats pissin on cotton So
You see there's nothin furthermore to say
Aiyyo Busta, "
Pass the
Courvoiser"