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Epmd

All in The Mind

  hip-hop  rap  hip hop  old school  new york
980 3 часа назад

Текст песни Epmd - All in The Mind

Epmd - All in The Mind слова песни




[erick sermon]Oh.. yeahhuhh!Def squadChorus: erick sermonIts all in the mind.. (pump pump, lickin shots!) *7x*(pump pump, lickin shots)[erick sermon]Aiyyo its the master rap maniac, comin fat like datThats my habitat, with the funk trackFrom the boondocks, when I rocks my styles out the docksWho who? I hear someone knockin at my doorIt must be soup, a black human beinI think its about time for yall to see him[soup]Sometimes I get blindsided with the flow, I never knowThey yell hoe, assumin the motions of a cool flowNotions of a cool, its the s, ohhhhhhNever come test, noooooooo, cause even the bestll have toGo out with the rest, nestea and a bag of sess for meAckninckulous, I kill the weeds in my chest[erick sermon]Back on the rebound, its the magnificents funkdullahOld schooler, more sole/soul than dr. scholl-ahFreakin wicked so it sticks in your domeOn the chrome microphone so I take it homeDont neglect, just respect, the mic checkDont forget, I still snap necks and come correctI leave the microphone burnin (burnin)Green eyed bandit, my ? full name is erick sermon[soup]Erick sermon, sermon with the preachingIm fuckin up peoples heads without speaking, without speakingClearly, loudly, niggaz crowd around the speakerTo hear me freak the, note like tamikaBut sweeter, sixty phoneta, sneaker if youPeep the, jams and you reap the fieldsWith the roots and uh, my name is soup, and uhI flow like orange juice or tropicana, and uhChorus[erick sermon]Breaker breaker, shh, I hear some staticStop and get my automatic, the rusty one from the atticAnd shoot, or be killed, and if I ill I might causeA bloodspill so I have to chill and getTotally disgusting on the microphoneWhyyyyyyyyy, because its onnnnn (its on, its on)Its on (its on, its on, its on, its on!!)[soup]The industry is a trick, and everyone is on the dickA cheap trick, just like ? like ? I peep it, everyone, wants me to sound likeA ? , Im dyin, before I get up from behindIts crushin up the rush of the rhyme in my mindDrink and trust - blind, think and trust - my, nineBecause, nine lives nine triggersFine rhymes equal the nine figuresYeah the cold cash, I hold a bold stashYeah pockets next to my nineteen year old assYeah, God bless the child with his ownGod bless the roots and outsiders who zoneMotherfuckers caps, get bucked in the domeLick a shot, in his mad packed crazy chromeChorus (+ soup shouting over)[soup]Like that, but its all wordsWords can kill more pens, than guns, and friendsAnd foes, God knows, I chose the prosThat rose, still froze-n, chose-n, youS-o-u and the p, e, r-i-c-kErick sermon, kickin a rhyme this wayYeah! its all in, your mindIts all in, my mindIts all in, my mind..

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