(E Dub)
It's Erick Sermon, no need for those to guess yall
I confess, ya'll, when I spit the yiggy yes yall
I gotcha, when that groove hit, no stoppin ya
Tear the club up like Three 6 Mafia
I'm real, react when it's time to peel
Step, if you want it, come get it, come wid it, what the deal?
Yo dog, I roll tight in my stinkin Lincoln
With black frame, grey interior with the wood grain
And two stash boxes, for the funds and guns
I don't own an UZI, but my 9 weights a ton
Kid, we be the mos' deffest, no squad can catch us
We takin the, drastic measures to fulfill the pleasures
(Funk Doc)
When I turn one hundred and eight, with wrinkles in my face
My name will still be in debates about who was great
I make you tie your lace two times when I create
Cause when I begin to get slick, I sweat Quaker State
We three the hard way, tight like little Jamal's face
You offers, I walk through your church without no parlay
Or permits, f*ck your white picket fence
I'm from the hood, keepin it tinsel, 17 inch
I'm strictly convinced, yall puss
Flippin crack, save that
I kepp my money stacked, ghetto diplomat style
Order it now, no refunds
I'm like a clib with jums
I move crack fiends with different vowels
Even technicians can't repair the mic I spit on
I'm too underground to dance with that shiny shit on
, naah, call National Guards and trucks
And their weapons better be big as f*ck!
Ay yo, the three of us together is incredible
Like a miracle, finally I get to move it up a few decimals
Unquestionable, Unconscionable to the mental
Not that happy dappy shit that you're use to
I got the skunky funky illest funk flow
For the glamorous, scandalous world of radio
And pimpin ain't dead, ya'll niggas just scared
To smack a ho, and make that tramp get up out there
Oh yeah, I heard your new shit is GARBAGE
Bastard, lookin like you just stepped out of a casket
I get stupid, dumb, illiterate when I'm killin it
Real legitamate, bitches gettin intimate
In nineteen hundred and ninety eight
We gonna set a whole lotta different shit straight
You suckas, no good, insecure back barnyard sewer rat eatin motherf*ckers!
Def Squad - Can You Dig It? Lyrics
Def Squad - Can You Dig It? Lyrics
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We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
(E Dub)
It's Erick Sermon, no need for those to guess yall
I confess, ya'll, when I spit the yiggy yes yall
I gotcha, when that groove hit, no stoppin ya
Tear the club up like Three 6 Mafia
I'm real, react when it's time to peel
Step, if you want it, come get it, come wid it, what the deal?
Yo dog, I roll tight in my stinkin Lincoln
With black frame, grey interior with the wood grain
And two stash boxes, for the funds and guns
I don't own an UZI, but my 9 weights a ton
Kid, we be the mos' deffest, no squad can catch us
We takin the, drastic measures to fulfill the pleasures
(Funk Doc)
When I turn one hundred and eight, with wrinkles in my face
My name will still be in debates about who was great
I make you tie your lace two times when I create
Cause when I begin to get slick, I sweat Quaker State
We three the hard way, tight like little Jamal's face
You offers, I walk through your church without no parlay
Or permits, f*ck your white picket fence
I'm from the hood, keepin it tinsel, 17 inch
I'm strictly convinced, yall puss
Flippin crack, save that
I kepp my money stacked, ghetto diplomat style
Order it now, no refunds
I'm like a clib with jums
I move crack fiends with different vowels
Even technicians can't repair the mic I spit on
I'm too underground to dance with that shiny shit on
, naah, call National Guards and trucks
And their weapons better be big as f*ck!
Ay yo, the three of us together is incredible
Like a miracle, finally I get to move it up a few decimals
Unquestionable, Unconscionable to the mental
Not that happy dappy shit that you're use to
I got the skunky funky illest funk flow
For the glamorous, scandalous world of radio
And pimpin ain't dead, ya'll niggas just scared
To smack a ho, and make that tramp get up out there
Oh yeah, I heard your new shit is GARBAGE
Bastard, lookin like you just stepped out of a casket
I get stupid, dumb, illiterate when I'm killin it
Real legitamate, bitches gettin intimate
In nineteen hundred and ninety eight
We gonna set a whole lotta different shit straight
You suckas, no good, insecure back barnyard sewer rat eatin motherf*ckers!
It's Erick Sermon, no need for those to guess yall
I confess, ya'll, when I spit the yiggy yes yall
I gotcha, when that groove hit, no stoppin ya
Tear the club up like Three 6 Mafia
I'm real, react when it's time to peel
Step, if you want it, come get it, come wid it, what the deal?
Yo dog, I roll tight in my stinkin Lincoln
With black frame, grey interior with the wood grain
And two stash boxes, for the funds and guns
I don't own an UZI, but my 9 weights a ton
Kid, we be the mos' deffest, no squad can catch us
We takin the, drastic measures to fulfill the pleasures
(Funk Doc)
When I turn one hundred and eight, with wrinkles in my face
My name will still be in debates about who was great
I make you tie your lace two times when I create
Cause when I begin to get slick, I sweat Quaker State
We three the hard way, tight like little Jamal's face
You offers, I walk through your church without no parlay
Or permits, f*ck your white picket fence
I'm from the hood, keepin it tinsel, 17 inch
I'm strictly convinced, yall puss
Flippin crack, save that
I kepp my money stacked, ghetto diplomat style
Order it now, no refunds
I'm like a clib with jums
I move crack fiends with different vowels
Even technicians can't repair the mic I spit on
I'm too underground to dance with that shiny shit on
, naah, call National Guards and trucks
And their weapons better be big as f*ck!
Ay yo, the three of us together is incredible
Like a miracle, finally I get to move it up a few decimals
Unquestionable, Unconscionable to the mental
Not that happy dappy shit that you're use to
I got the skunky funky illest funk flow
For the glamorous, scandalous world of radio
And pimpin ain't dead, ya'll niggas just scared
To smack a ho, and make that tramp get up out there
Oh yeah, I heard your new shit is GARBAGE
Bastard, lookin like you just stepped out of a casket
I get stupid, dumb, illiterate when I'm killin it
Real legitamate, bitches gettin intimate
In nineteen hundred and ninety eight
We gonna set a whole lotta different shit straight
You suckas, no good, insecure back barnyard sewer rat eatin motherf*ckers!