[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