Yesh Yesh Y'all

Yo hard beats like this keep my mentality raw

I G off C 4 lyrics to blow off them Lex door

My tex ture be the kind that explore

MC's then blow em out metaphor after metaphor

I'm more wetter than your boy bigger

So how you figure you can fuck with this rap unemploy nigga

I should own a fly bitch house and a Benz

But I got chickenheads criminals and broke friends

that love to get in keep the seventeen spinnin

Pull out from my jaw linin, commence to split end

Brains and body parts that motion couldn't picture

Cause when I'm shittin niggaz hit mo decks than a skipper

Mr and Mrs Howe, MaryAnne and Ginger

Gilligan, you need the Professor to take the rigger

waters out I got orders to kill em softly

I wouldn't leave a trace if I died and police chalked me

Who's the Boss G you better radio the walkie talkie

For the Fatal Attract MC's that stalk me

Got a big dick and your bitch click

When I flip this I got more work than a olympic gymnast

Bust it, I cut the mustard, on any track

Milkier than Similak when I'm next up to bat

("Redman is on the mic and I'ma..."

"Dope motherfucker, yeah, you best ax somebody" -- Snoop)

(Yesh yesh y'all, and you don't stop -- Sermon 8X)

Fuck the talk I walk whatever I claim to do

Knock a mule on her ass and turn her pussy black and blue

You couldn't run up if your Fighter was Virtua

I'm a round-the-clock lyricist, I sleep in my work boots

It's a Thin Line Between Love and Hate

It's a thin line between the trigger and the finger of a thirty-eight

Deaths by far, my rap repatoire

be the art of murderin makin it hard for you to spar

We can chill and puff the ganja, but don't be mad when the

Funk Doctor Spock smoke it with your baby mama

Get off my dick and tell your bitch to come here

Male groupies gettin shaky when I come from the rear

Hah, that get on your nerve neighbor that play the

music loud as fuck three in the mornin off a paper

With mad Zul in the L-S-C

In the downtown area, scannin the perimeter

All my boos with the open toed shoes

If you ain't gettin that pussy eaten right, let me show you

Then let you taste these, this Brown Fox said

Ain't No Nigga like the -- Funk Doctor Spock G

(Yesh yesh y'all, and you don't stop -- Sermon 4X)

As I dive into the crowd

I wanna see who the fuck gettin loud

Who da fuck runnin off at dey mouf?

I let my nigga Fifty Cent knock that ass out

Word bond, bitches talkin bout pourin out Cristal

and Dom P they better stick to Sade

Blackin out whylin, smackin out weaves

Break niggaz cheap ass chains and medallions

You're just a part time sucker in the game

Shit is real motherfucker start namin names

And if you name my name I whoop ass like Steven Seagal

Give you Under Siege 2 without the fuckin train

Let your brains hang from the 808 bang

And if I wrecked your cipher then my Squad is to blame

(Yesh yesh y'all, and you don't stop -- Erick Sermon 12X then fades)

We'll be right back with some more funk shit

for all you stankin asses after we pay these bills