Symphony 2000

[Intro: PMD & Erick Sermon] Yeah Erick Sermon, EPMD Check it Redman, Method Man, Lady Luck, Def Jam Erick and Parrish Millenium Ducats Hold me down, hold me down Uh, yo [Verse 1: PMD] I grab the mic and grip it hard like it's my last time to shine I want the chrome and the cream so I put it down for mine Ill cat, slick talk, slang New York To break it down to straight English, what the fuck you want? Remember me? You punk faggot crab emcee Get your shit broke in half for fuckin around with P Aiyyo strike two, my style Brooklyn like the Zoo Hey you, look nigga, one more strike you through Word is bid-ond, rock Esco, FUBU, and Phat Fid-arm Every time I get my spit on, no doubt, I spark the chridon I step up and bless the track and spit a jewel We keeps cool, no need for static, I strap tools Next up [Break: Erick Sermon & PMD] Yo, I believe that's me Yo, get on the mic and rock the Symphony [Verse 2: Erick Sermon] Yo, P Time to rock, the sound I got, it reigns hot Makin' necks snap back like a slingshot E hustle and muscle my way in Then tussle for days in, on my own with guns blazin' Not for the fun of it, just for those who want me to run it Then leave them like "Who done it?" Sucka duck, I do what I feel right now When I spit the illest shit, cats be like "Wow" Yo, I get looks when I'm in the place That's that nigga, makin' you smile with Scarface Uh, it ain't my fault that my style sick enough to shock ya Hit you with the fifth, block-a block-a If I get caught, you can bet I'll blow trial Be downtown swingin', M.O.P.-style Next up [Interlude: Redman & Erick Sermon] Yo, yo, it's Funk D.O.C Yo, you're on the mic to rock the Symphony [Verse 3: Redman] He-ha, yo, yo Did you ever think you would catch a cap? Yo, did you ever think you would get a slap? Yo, did you ever think you would get robbed At gunpoint, stripped and thrown out the car? It's Funk Doc, you know my name, ho My style dirty underground or Ukraine po' When it hits you, pain pumps Kool-Aid through the vein and shit Snatch the trap then I dash like Damon did Doc, walk thin red lines to shell shock Hairlock with fuckin' broads in nail shops Hydro? Got more bags than bellhops Two thousand Benz on my eight-by-ten picture Papichu', slayin' crews in ICU Battlin' using hockey rules For Keith Murray, Doc gon' cock these tools Rollin down like dice in Yahtzee, fool I just do it like Nike, outta 'Bama With ten kids with hammers, hooked to a camper Yo, next up [Interlude: Method Man & Redman] It's the G-O-D Yo, yo, get on the mic for the Symphony [Verse 4: Method Man] Youth on the move, payin' them dues, nothin' to lose Huh, street kids, broken and bruised, eyein' yo' jewels Huh, bad news bearin' they souls through rhyme and blues Hardcore; to make them brothers act fool Hands on the steel, flip you heads over heel Smell the daffodils from the lyric overkill Feelin' like the mack inside a Cadillac Seville Too ill on cuts, the Barber of Seville - figaro The sky is fallin'—geronimo I feel my high comin' down; look out below Ayo, dead that roach clip and spark another Chickenhawks, playin' theyselves like Parker Brothers I rock for the low-class from Locash The broke-assed, even rock for trailer park trash Yeah, yeah, the God on your block like Godzilla Yeah, yeah, she gave away my pussy, I'ma kill her John, John phenom-enon In Japan, they call me Ichiban Wu-Tang Clan, number one In the whole nine, I hold mine Keep playin' with it kid, you might go blind, jerk-off Fuck them, A-K-A for now it's just Meth That's it, that's all, solo, single no more no less [Interlude: Everyone, Lady Luck & PMD] Next up! I believe that's me Bastard! Get on the mic and rock the Symphony [Verse 5: Lady Luck] Mrs. Stop, Drop and Roll, rocks top the told Hot, even though dames is froze Pop close range at foes and blaze them hoes Leave 'em with they brains exposed and stains on clothes Y'all better change your flows, hear how Luck spittin'? Stay drunk-pissed in the S-Type, stay whippin' When the guns spittin', duck or get hittin' It's written, we in the game but ball different Point game like Jordan, y'all play the role of Pippen Style switchin, like tight-ass after stickin' Man, listen, stop your cryin'and your bitchin' Like E and P's last CD, you're out of business