| Hit it hard
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| Yeah, yeah, when I stick it she be like (uh)
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| Yeah, pimpin, I run up right inside 'em, yeah
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| Yo, it goes hey you, guess what, guess who gets what
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| I snatch baguettes, you get what you get, guess what
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| Guess what, you get it and forget it like guess what
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| Guess what get done to special guests that can’t guess what
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| He goin on when Sy be goin off
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| In the cross my Squad run tracks like motocross
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| I write words I read and then re-word 'em
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| Same word, rework 'em without re-wordin 'em
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| Word perfect for workin with 'em
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| Workmen do homework, men at work in the network workin system
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| Yeah, I overwork, work the middle
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| Work and turn your homework workbook against you
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| In the range of a roundabout ratio
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| I merry-go-round around around the radio
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| Around around and away we go
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| Everytime Sy bust down then it’s up up away you go
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| Now what do you niggas think about this
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| A jam for the streets that you can’t resist
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| So hustle to this, bang to this
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| Get your money to this, yeah listen to this
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| Now what do you bitches think about this
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| A jam for the clubs that you can’t resist
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| So shake to this, freak to this
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| Drink up to this, yeah listen to this
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| Uhh, huh
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| E-Dub, I’m known like the Rucker
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| Fucker, comin through like a redneck trucker
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| Nother, man down, call 9−1-1
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| I stash that so they can’t find my gun
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| I’m in the woods like hikers, bikers, campers
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| Antlers, bears snakes and long-leg tarantulas
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| Uh, E-Dub I got balls
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| If I get chased pon' de river like Sean Paul, believe it
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| I’m on the fish neck, like jet-skis
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| I killed Romeo, along with Jet Li
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| And messin with the E be incomparable
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| Get romped like Romper Room, a one man platoon
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| Oh I say, I’m Andrew Dice Clay
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| Filthy mouth and also fuck y’all
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| You wanna get physical we touch y’all
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| Haters we appreciate the love so — thank you very much y’all
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| Last but not least, Keith wreck shop comfortably
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| When I flow, I fuck up your street credibility
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| Def Squad get busy often
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| When it comes to chicks we got more tricks than a dolphin
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| You see the new E-Dub spin when I pull up
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| Ecko sweatsuit with the hood up
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| This shit is so hot you could cook an egg on it
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| So I sunny-side up, buttered toast my opponents
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| I take the drama to the middle of the street
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| Or any nigga that’s feelin himself like Tweet
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| Kid you sonned out, let me speak to your father
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| Matter of fact, hold these here, and don’t even bother
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| We come through with the nines poppin
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| Niggas get so quiet, you can hear rats pissin on cotton
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| So you see there’s nothin furthermore to say
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| Aiyyo Busta, «Pass the Courvoiser» |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Listen , by - Erick Sermon. Song from the album Chilltown, New York, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп