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واجهه المستخدم


مستوى الصعوبة


لهجة



لغة الواجهة

ar

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Erick Sermon

Tell 'Em

 

Tell 'Em

(الألبوم: Double Or Nothing - 1995)


You about to come through right?
(Yeah, I'll do it, man, don't stress me.)
You about to come through
(I got this. Check this out, man.)
You ain't gonna front on me
(I ain't gonna front on niggas, man.)
Make sure, man, I'm telling you right now
(Check this out, what, I'm about to do it right now.)
People gonna looking, man, word up. Ha

Personal gats, I gots about 11
Without weapons, I swing more bats than K7
Plus, I'm soup like Campbell without Tevin
Some rappers pack naked guns like Frank Drebin
In this century, I uphold the crown
For bringing flavor in the ear plus for getting down
I maneuver techniques for species of all kinds
The third, yours and mine
An abduction is in full effect
I come with the mothership and with some other shit (Yeah)
All the way live like a concert
The most respected brother, putting in some work, yeah

If you got a crew, you better tell 'em
E kicks rhymes from the cerebellum
Don't slip or you won't be around next year
("Well, here's a little something that needs to be heard")

Check the poetry in motion
From this bombazee smoking bitch that get you open
It's mess if you tangle with my tresses
'Cause I possess gifts that's wickeder than hexes
That explode on the scene by all means
I be Flushing MC's like Queens
And none of y'all can see me
Got more Boom Boom than Mancini
Your style is strictly preemie
And I stomp with the big dogs
Off the wall with a crew that's rough enough to Rush Limbaugh
We stay strapped, part of Pack Pistol Posse
I represent through mind, soul, and body
In any form I'm doing work over beat breaks
Now even cheapskates is peeping my tape release date
Word born, I'm coming in like a swarm then I'm gone
Before you can ring the alarm

If you got a crew, you better tell 'em
I kick rhymes from the cerebellum
Don't slip or you won't be around next year
("Now here's a little something that needs to be heard.")

A-yo, catch this wordage bubonic plague
In your head, back, chest, arms, and legs
When I'm coming through grab your cranium for alternatum
Punk, I fades 'em subterranium
My subliminals mix with criminal chemicals
Got more milky syllables than alphabet cereal
Place your bet and your whole entourage will get wet
That's a promise 'cause the Squad don't make threats
I'm a graceful poet with sadistic ballistics
Above and beyond all that other bullshit
Linguistics aggressive antiseptic
Nerve-wrecking, concepted on consistent contestants
My deviant deliverance
Be leaving MC's in a state of mal mid depressing (Word up)
Damaging your medulla, cerebrum and cerebellum
You got a crew, you better tell 'em

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