| It’s Erick Sermon, no need for those to guess yall
|
| I confess, ya’ll, when I spit the yiggy yes yall
|
| I gotcha, when that groove hit, no stoppin ya
|
| Tear the club up like Three 6 Mafia
|
| I’m real, react when it’s time to peel
|
| Step, if you want it, come get it, come wid it, what the deal?
|
| Yo dog, I roll tight in my stinkin Lincoln
|
| With black frame, grey interior with the wood grain
|
| And two stash boxes, for the funds and guns
|
| I don’t own an UZI, but my 9 weights a ton
|
| Kid, we be the mos' deffest, no squad can catch us
|
| We takin the, drastic measures to fulfill the pleasures
|
| When I turn one hundred and eight, with wrinkles in my face
|
| My name will still be in debates about who was great
|
| I make you tie your lace two times when I create
|
| Cause when I begin to get slick, I sweat Quaker State
|
| We three the hard way, tight like little Jamal’s face
|
| You offers, I walk through your church without no parlay
|
| Or permits, fuck your white picket fence
|
| I’m from the hood, keepin it tinsel, 17 inch
|
| I’m strictly convinced, yall puss
|
| Flippin crack, save that
|
| I kepp my money stacked, ghetto diplomat style
|
| Order it now, no refunds
|
| I’m like a clib with jums
|
| I move crack fiends with different vowels
|
| Even technicians can’t repair the mic I spit on
|
| I’m too underground to dance with that shiny shit on
|
| , naah, call National Guards and trucks
|
| And their weapons better be big as fuck!
|
| Ay yo, the three of us together is incredible
|
| Like a miracle, finally I get to move it up a few decimals
|
| Unquestionable, Unconscionable to the mental
|
| Not that happy dappy shit that you’re use to
|
| I got the skunky funky illest funk flow
|
| For the glamorous, scandalous world of radio
|
| And pimpin ain’t dead, ya’ll niggas just scared
|
| To smack a ho, and make that tramp get up out there
|
| Oh yeah, I heard your new shit is GARBAGE
|
| Bastard, lookin like you just stepped out of a casket
|
| I get stupid, dumb, illiterate when I’m killin it
|
| Real legitamate, bitches gettin intimate
|
| In nineteen hundred and ninety eight
|
| We gonna set a whole lotta different shit straight
|
| You suckas, no good, insecure back barnyard sewer rat eatin motherfuckers! |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Can You Dig It , by - Keith Murray. Song from the album Best Of Keith Murray, Vol. 1, in the genre Соул