feat. Redman, Passion
  
  Intro:
  (laughing) Yeah, coming to you like, yeah, you know another one of those,
  flavorishis, mackadoshis, sour cream and onion type flavor.
  
  Redman:
  I rule the world like Kurtis Blow with my afro blown
  I'm torn out the frame, drunk style stagger like Ned the Wino
  For black albino, I'm like suicide on vinyle
  The type of antidope shit you have to keep away from my nose
  And I'm the, bombest rhymer, check my steez
  My vocals are like vaginas, wet an MC's when they open
  My identities, blows facilities to ememies please test these abilities
  I'm rugged, I pack a 24 studded, karrot automatic, 45 nigga slugger
  So ring thee alarm, when your TV is on, I react freakin' to songs
  When bitches see me perform, bitches say I strickly brake vertibraes
  Bones back, chinky eyed like Japs I blow states off the map
  Just by eye contact
  
  Hook:
  Don't get it twisted and if you do, you best to move on move on
  "Rock, rock on" - Redman (x4)
  
  Erick Sermon:
  Yeah, I shut down things for the moment, what?
  Paying my does for them fake ass crews (yeah)
  Who be claimin' to be the shit y'all stop
  Gimmicks, hard core lyrics for an image
  I'm stompin' 'em the beast wompin' 'em
  Brain damage is caused, girls drop they drawers to the ground
  I be's the Effect like Wrecks, rhyme skills be shooting off like two black
  techs
  Somebody stop me I'm smoking like Mask
  Shut your mouth, he's a bad, uh, like Shaft
  The E-Double bring the dopest material, way out cosmic type
  Alcoholic whisky type funk for your sissys (word up)
  Huh, I take it to the streets, if you can't run up on my turf then get some
  cleats
  I let one nigga slide in 93, but this year, he's fuckin' history
  
  Hook (X4)
  
  Passion:
  Strick nine rules the mind on the verge of destruction
  Blood starts to boil like a lyrical combustion, eruption
  Insane no pressure no pain, niggas falling off it's strain to maintain
  They be killing me, trying to preach to me, teach to me
  I got a PHD in funkology
  You got your bachelors and your masters in the field of dramatics
  The lyrical are bringing the static from the attic, so cock your automatics
  I've had it up to here, you niggas are in danger
  You better stand clear, no hugs no love and kiss mainstream America
  They just ain't ready for this, cause I'm nice as shit
  Niggas be having fits, the Squad of Def be smacking hits after hits
  And what's goin' on in your mind I can feel it
  Tremors in the body has caused for the healin'
  
  Hook (x4)
  
  Outro:
  You know what I'm sayin'? Things is hot in the tunnel out in here you know
  what I'm sayin'? Ah, N-Y-C streets is love, it's hot in the summer, um,
  spring, winter and fall things are just lovely, sweet & sour sauce. Doin'
  this y'all feel this. I feel you.