Underground Lyrics

Comin' straight from the underground Comin' straight from the underground I'm comin' straight from the underground Comin' straight from the underground
As I pump up a brand new funk swing And bring back the chill of thrill from B.B. King Old fashioned is the way that I be waxin' a MC I bust a grill, and the reaction I check
Inspect, make sure the head's wrecked Snap a neck for some live effects A machine, my functioning, that's mean I stay together, my man, like Al Green
I'm a slayer, the E R I C K and I'm back To attack a punk chump that ain't sayin' Jack Boom, I'm buckwild when I'm stoned
I close only one eye like a cyclone So I throw on my black shades that's rhinestone Summer to my Benz that's outlined in chrome I'm the Grand Royal MC, I'm no joke
I hit like a Phillie Blunt when it's toked I smoke, an MC well done, he gets done I'm knockin' out wack MC's like Michael Nunn Full power, one punch, crunch, I'm throwin' bolos
I'm strapped heavy, my handguns that's solo I'm packed when it's time to get down 'Cuz Erick Sermon's comin' straight from the Underground
Comin' straight from the underground I'm comin' straight from the underground I'm comin' straight from the underground I'm comin' straight from the underground
Okie dokie, my mind gets slow pokey when I toke the Bull from a Phillie Blunt and I hope me Old Gold is cold when I pop the cap Take a sip and then blitz, then crack a back with a rhyme sack
'Cuz I'm too smooth, pay my dues and can't lose I'm Top Gun pullin' bitches like Tom Cruise And my main man, D Wade, still gets paid And in the off-season we vacate in the shade
So all hail the Mary, crack the Moet Blast the boom box, then act like George and Jet, son 'Cuz my style, similar to Tae-Kwon-Do, but hey, yo I don't kick or throw stars, this brother flows To the funk track with 808 drops for prop the top
Of druggin' or thuggin', D T's or cops I say, "No" to blow and "Yes" to cess and I suggest You put a buck on Lotto and if you win, you should invest In a new grill, Bill, 'cuz I rock non until
The Fat Lady sings, or Brooklyn starts to ill There's a fat chance, with the brother Bistro 'Cuz I'm the master of the quadraverb and the echo There's no time to stop, so P keep on steppin'
On the edge of the frame of the mind, the nine is the weapon That I choose to squeeze when a brother acts wild One slug to the head, mafioso style You catch a Universal beat down with sounds that pound Watch yourself son, I'm comin' straight from the underground
I'm comin' straight from the underground I'm comin' straight from the underground Straight from the underground