[Intro: Erick Sermon]
Yo Reggie, uh
D-E-F Squad
Muddy Waters
Don’t get it twisted, nigga
[Verse 1: Redman]
Ayo, everybody in this motherfucker will get touched
Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs
Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques
I beez that, Freak of the Week like I made Knee Deep
Hold up! Rotate around the solar, Madder than Cobra
Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps Folgers
I’m sautéein’ MC’s with fried rice up in the wok
Without the MSG and chopped celery
See, I made it, my flavor situated
From the nickel plated mic that’s hot, to leave your brain inflated
Plus, I’m thick like Quakers on papers
Bodacious MC’s get turned to lower cases
Lettering, and the medicine, that I’m swallowin
Get you hollerin’, like Marvin Gaye
When his father shot him in the chest
I roll with two stacks of TECs
And mad niggas in sets that’ll roll up in your rest, UHH!
Mister Fantastic’s crafted off that 50 sack of ass kick
When I’m blasted, my mathematics get drastic
That you can’t see with bifocals
Watchin MC’s go up and down like stock brokers
I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that’s milk
That’s rougher than jeans that Gloria Vanderbilt
I’m poppin mad shit, plus I can back it
Your man’ll be like “Yo, get that dust off yo’ jacket”
[Verse 2: Keith Murray]
It ain’t a test or quiz that my Squad can win
Those who know the biz, know we rap kids, get biz
You’ll digest, multiple stab wounds to the chest
Then I copycat, kill the rest
With no method to my madness
Bless the apparatus with the baddest
Determined to be the last man, standing on the planet
You’ll get attached, like a blood sucking leech
When you fall into my rhythm of speech
Your ears get embraced with a touch of the bass
Head get wrapped up, neck get thrown in a neck brace
Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?
Will ironically chronically murder you and your crew
My objective, the way I live, is kinda primitive
See I get to the bottom of the problem, and make shit give
Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master
Cast to the masses, grabs the mic
Ten dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after (Tweek, Tweek)
To my Squad, there’s no matches, we mashes
Do photo flashes in all flavor S-classes
Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini Mac to your back
Tie you up, throw you in the Ac’
A public figure, who walks around with a jaded jigger
‘Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up
[Verse 3: Jamal & (Erick Sermon)]
Muddy Waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go
Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble
Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it’s not logic
Playing that big shit get broke down microscopic
Bring it back keep the track ringing, with the bassline
It’s major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine
Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace
Around and round, avoiding the time to put it down
Now’s the time here, yeah
(Clown where, pick a spot
Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot)
Gangsta, so called killin’, cap peelin’, playalistic
I mean, is all that shit realistic?
Play your cards, God, black keep your hand held tight
Nightfall might call your life, shit is trife
On these evil streets after dark
Niggas gettin sparked left and outlined in chalk
New day, seriously, this whole shit’s twisted…(As a man)
It’s me bombin’ on these niggas shitlisted, Mally G
Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G
Hopin’ to rise in thee, industry with E
The villain’s at it ’cause I had it (Word up, yeah)
Killin’ my psychosomatic pattern rhythmatic (Yeah)
[Outro: Erick Sermon]
Y’all know, uhh, yeah
Muddy Waters, we out for ’97
Word up, peace
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