Underground Lyrics

[Refrain]
[comin' straight from the underground] 4x

Erick sermon:
As I pump up a brand new funk swing,
And bring back the chill of thrill from b.b. king.
Old fashioned is the way that I be waxin' a mc,
I bust a grill, and the reaction I check,
Inspect, make sure the head's wrecked;
[crunch] snap a neck for some live effects.

A machine, my functioning, that's mean.
I stay together, my man, like al green.
I'm a slayer, the e-r-i-c-k and I'm back
To attack a punk chump that ain't sayin' jack.
Boom, I'm buckwild when I'm stoned,
I close only one eye like a cyclone.
So I throw on my black shades that's rhinestone,
Summer to my benz that's outlined in chrome.
I'm the grand royal mc, I'm no joke.
I hit like a phillie blunt when it's toked.
I smoke, an mc well-done, he gets done.
I'm knockin' out wack mcs like michael nunn.
Full-power, one punch, crunch, I'm throwin' bolos.
I'm strapped heavy, my handguns that's solo.
I'm packed when it's time to get down.
Cuz erick sermon's comin' straight from the underground...

[Refrain: 4x]

Pmd:
Okie dokie.my mind gets slow-pokey when I toke the
Bull from a phillie blunt and I hope me
Old gold is cold when I pop the cap.
Take a sip and then blitz, then crack a back with a rhyme sack.
Cuz I'm too smooth, pay my dues, and can't lose.
I'm top gun, pullin' bitches like tom cruise.
And my main man, d-wade, still gets paid.
And in the off-season, we vacate in the shade.
So all hail the mary, crack the moet,
Blast the boom-box, then act like george and jet-son.
Cuz my style, similar to tae kwon do, but hey-yo,
I don't kick or throw stars, this brother flows
To the funk track, with 808 drops for prop the top
Of druggin' or thuggin, d.t.s or cops.
I say, no to blow and yes to cess and I suggest
You put a buck on lotto, and if you win, you should invest
In a new grill, bill, cuz I rock non- until
The fat lady sings, or brooklyn starts to ill.
There's a fat chance, with the brother bistro,
Cuz I'm the master of the quadraverb and the echo.
There's no time to stop, so p keep on steppin'
On the edge of the frame of the mind, the nine is the weapon.
That I choose to squeeze when a brother acts wild.
One slug to the head, mafioso style.
You catch a universal beat down with sounds that pound,
Watch yourself son, I'm comin' straight from the underground.

[Refrain: 2x]