Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Listen, artist - Erick Sermon. Album song Chilltown, New York, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 21.06.2004
Record label: A Republic Records release;
Song language: English
Listen |
| 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» |