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!