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