Swing It Over Here

[Intro] "Kick it over here baby pop!" [Hook: Keith Murray, Redman and (All)] Swing it over here! (Yo, swing it over here!) Swing it over here! (C'mon, swing it over here!) Y'all swing it over here! (Swing it over here!) Come swing it over here! Yo, swing it over there! [Verse 1: Keith Murray] My rap style is swift like boom bips So come get a whip, and a bump, it's rough, crews couldn't hold it in handcuffs The ordeal is that I'm raw ill on the mic Switchin my styles up like a transvestite (word) I think of competition as... and Keith Murray is the vocabulary champ Come in against deep notable to breach lines I'll make you make the same mistake twice, three or four times And nobody got a style like this You could say, I got my thinking cap on backwards I'll demolish the retarded smartest rap artists Regardless, tryin to scream the hardest I fuck your head up like amphetamines with L.O.D Then bend you out of shape like a master Yogi I put my head through your chest, just to see Who's next in line, just to get wrecked I makes contact, bust the interlude I take my skills to another level like qualudes And you couldn't hear me out; cause the type of shit I converse about'll drag your brain in the slaughterhouse [Hook] Swing it over here! Swing it over here! Swing it over here! Swing it over here! Swing it over here! Swing it over here! Swing it over here! Swing it over here! [Verse 2: Erick Sermon] Cling cling, somebody tell me something Why I got more props than Don King without bouncing boxing rings? *ding ding* I be the flyest guy you ever saw-r on the microphone Rip the shit to pieces, so leave me alone Check me out, the way I freak the mode The active half flippin shit so split 'fore I explode - BOOM! So umm, pay attention, before I put you and your crew on suspension For being closed minded to my invention Yo, I rock on reel when I record oh my lord The world full of jackers so I keep my shit stored When I rock the microphone I rock it right And keep it hardcore and more blacker than Wesley Snipes To my crew there's no match You want more funk then here's another batch, yo I [Hook] Swing it over here! Swing it over here! Swing it over here! Swing it over here! Swing it over here! Swing it over here! Swing it over here! Swing it over here! [Interlude: Scratches (Erick Sermon)] "The Redman that's what they call me" "The Redman that's what they call me" "The Redman that's what they call me" (Oh no, here comes the Funkadelic Redman) [Verse 3: Redman] Aoowwwwwhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh my goodness! Could this be The funk that I was stretching out my lungs Funkadelic sums up *nasal inhale* I clear the mucus Stick tissue up my nose to stop the snot from makin spots To be or not I still give niggas polka dots for plots Now Richard Dawson had a survey sayin that I was awesome Throw on your Walkmans while I pour the funk sauce in your coffins WAKE UP! While the blunt's laced up just to pick the pace up My style's freaky, nasty like Seka's pussy vapors When I raped her, you don't know check the four-uno-uno you know That funk mixture that gets your body, holy like scriptures Now right about now I'm settin off a bomb to blow the Empire To ashes -- cause my shit's more raw than niggas stashes Massive funk, swingin bangin bent up while I fucked ya I'm rough enough ta, fuck up another white man's trucker Redman's evil like the board of Ouija Niggas could smoke a whole pound of weed and couldn't see me off the TV!