Can U Hear Me Now - Erick Sermon

Yo, this what hip-hop is comin to?

You can say whatever on the mic and when?

Let me see if you can hear me now when I’m doin this

Uh-huh, uh-huh, yeah, E. Sermon and («Kurtis Blow!»)

Can you hear me now?

Good

Can you hear me now?

Good

(«Turn it up!») Don’t take this serious

(«One, two, three four hit it!»)

Yo check one two, mic’s on

I’m well known like the Osbournes

Me — I love Kelly

See us both in the bed man, touchin bellies

This here «Pimp Juice,» I got from Nelly

I got «Punk'd,» show it on the telly, damn

My eyes green like Yoda, get cream like soda

Two thousand («FOUR») means a brand new motor

Phoenix, capitol of Arizona

But that means nuttin, I’m just sayin somethin

Spare the moment them niggas is suspect

I took a line from Keith Murray off his first cassette

I never took my dog to the vet

And I download songs off the net

But you would rather hear some rapper brag

Meanwhile, bombs bein dropped over Baghdad

Can you hear me now?

Good

Can you hear me now?

Good

(«Turn it up!») Can you hear me now?

Good — Can you hear me now?

Good

Can you hear me now?

Good

Check it, yo it’s Erick I’m down by law

(«TWO») plus («TWO») equals («FOUR»)

I got no time to razzle and dazzle

I’m in the crib with dad playin Scrabble

I’m usin words like rat, cat

Cheating cause I wrote down Brat

And Brat’s a rapper and you can’t use names

Oh yeah, the Lakers lost last night’s game

I caught me a flick I saw X-Men 2

«Where My Dawgs At?»

I’m a X fan too

I’m black like Kunta, my girl got the badoonka

Let me introduce ya («Hi I’m Big Sexy»)

And this ain’t got shit to do with nuttin

I’m on the microphone

Frontin

But this here wins, so I’mma say whatever to get spins

I got a

Benz with rims, uh

Uh, so mean, never seen the green, knahmean?

This jump off need two trampolines

Rock hard jeans sag low, new Timberlands

I works it like Missy and Timbaland

Cuban link chain hang E emblem

Chick 'round me multiplyin like Gremlins

Word to my momma, I bring drama

Like Osama, I’mma problem, period comma

I come through with the Bizkit, Limp’n

The Underground Kingz in the building, pimpin

Oh no, they must be feelin me

Pinch me now, this don’t feel real to me

Oh yeah, it’s my son’s communion

Next month is my fan’s reunion

Write this down in your pad

I’m thirty-(«FOUR») and a half, and yeah I’m a Sagg'

w/ ad libs to fade