Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Clout , by - Erick Sermon. Release date: 15.02.2012
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Clout |
| 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 shit 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 passin me I’m passin you |
| You not askin me I’m askin you |
| You not blastin me man I’m blastin you |
| Blastin through, got the whole senior class 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?!! |
| 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 nigga, you a hoe |
| Hit the flo' when I blast the trigga |
| E Dub not Nas but I’m a nasty nigga |
| 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 fag (That's fag!) |
| 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 motherfucker! |
| 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 |
| 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 |