Da Ill Out (feat. Jamal & Keith Murray)

(Erick Sermon) Yo Reggie, I'mout (Jamal) T-ree F Squad Muddy Waters Don't get it twisted... nigga (Redman) Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques I beez that, freak of the week like I made Knee Deep Hold up! Rotate around the solar, badder than Cobra Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps Folgers I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok Without the MSG and chopped celery See, I made it, my flavor situated From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated Plus, I'm thick like Quakers on papers Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases Lettering, and the medicine, that I'm swallowin Get you hollerin, like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him In the chest, I roll with two stacks of Tecs And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest UHH! Mister Fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick When I'm blasted, my Method magics get drastic That you can't see with bifocals Watchin MC's go up and down like stock brokers I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt I'm poppin mad shit, plus I can back it Your man'll be like "Yo, get that dust off yo' jacket" (Keith Murray) It ain't a test or quiz that my Squad can't win Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz Y'all digest, multiple stab wounds to the chest And I copycat kill the rest, with no Method to my madness Plus the apparatus with the baddest Determined to be the last man, standin on the planet Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin leech When you fall into my rhythm of speech Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass Head get wrapped up neck get thrown in a neck brace Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who? Will ironically chronically murder you and your crew My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive See I get to the bottom of the problem, and make shit give Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master Cast to the masses grabs the mic Ten dollar rappers, is what L.O.D. goes after To my Squad, there's no matches, we bashes Do photo flashes on all flavor S-classes Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back Tie you up, throw you in the act A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up (Jamal) Muddy Waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic Playin that big shit get broke down microscopic Freak it back keep the track ringin, with the bassline It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace Around and round, avoidin the time to put it down Now's the time here yeah (Erick Sermon) Clown where, pick a spot Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot (Jamal) Gangsta, so called killin, cap peelin Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight Night fall might call your life, shit is trife On these evil streets after dark Niggaz gettin sparked left and outlined in chalk New day, this whole shit's twisted (is it man) It's me bombin on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G Hopin to ride in the, industry with E The villain's had it cause ahead (word up yeah) Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad (yeah) (Erick Sermon) Y'all know, uhh, yeah, Muddy Waters We out for nine-seven, word up, peace