Swing It Over Here

'Kick it over here baby pop!' [Chorus: Murray, Sermon, others] [KM]
Swing it over here! [all]
Yo swing it over here! [KM]
Swing it over here! [all]
C'mon swing it over here! [KM]
Y'all swing it over here! [all]
Yo swing it over here! [KM]
Come swing it over here! [Red]
Yo, swing it over there! [Verse One: Keith Murray]
My rap style is swift like boom bips so come get a whip, and a bump, it's rough
Crews couldn't hold it in handcuffs
The ordeal is that
I'm raw ill on the mic
Switchin my styles up like a transvestite (word)
I think of competition as ?? and
Keith Murray is the vocabulary champ ?
Come in against deep notable to breach lines?
I'll make you make the same mistake twice three or four times and nobody got a style like this
You could say,
I got my thinking cap on backwards
I'll demolish the retarded smartest rap artists regardless, tryin to scream the hardest
I ****** your head up like a*** ******es with
L.O.D. Then bend you out of shape like a master
Yogi I put my head through your chest, just to see who's next in line, just to get wrecked
I makes contact, bust the interlude
I take my skills to another level like qualudes
And you couldn't hear me out; cause the type of ******t
I converse about'll drag your brain in the slaughterhouse [Chorus: change to all throughout] [Verse Two: Erick Sermon]
Cling cling, somebody tell me something
Why I got more props than
Don King without bouncing boxing rings? *ding ding*
I be the flyest guy you ever sawr onthe microphone
Rip the ******t to pieces, so leave me alone
Check me out, the way
I freak the mode
The active half flippin ****** t so split 'fore
I explode -
BOOM! So umm, pay attention, before
I put you and your crew on suspension for being closed minded to my invention
Yo, I rock on reel when
I record oh my lord
The world full of jackers so
I keep my ******t stored
When I rock the microphone
I rock it right and keep it hardcore and more blacker than
Wesley Snipes
To my crew there's no match
You want more funk then here's another batch, yo
I [Chorus: all throughout] [EPMD's 'Headbanger'] 'The Redman that's what they call me' [x3] [ED]
Oh no, here comes the
Funkadelic
Redman [Verse Three: Redman]
Aoowwwwwhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh my goodness!
Could this be the funk that
I was stretching out my lungs
Funkadelic sums up *nasal inhale*
I clear the mucus
Stick tissue up my nose to stop the snot from makin spots
To be or not
I still give ******z polka dots for plots
Now Richard
Dawson had a survey sayin that
I was awesome
Throw on your
Walkmans while
I pour the funk sauce in your coffins
WAKE UP! While the blunt's laced up just to pick the pace up
My style's freaky, nasty like ?
Seka? ****** papers when
I raped her, you don't know check the four-uno-uno you know
That funk mixture that gets your body, holy like scriptures
Now right about now
I'm settin off a bomb to blow the
Empire to ashes -- cause my ******t's more raw than******z stashes
Massive funk, swingin bangin bent up while
I ****** ya
I'm rough enough ta, ****** up another white man's trucker
Redman's evil like the board of ouiji, ******z could smoke a whole pound of ****** and couldn't see me off the
TV!