Released: November 8, 1994

Featuring: Erick Sermon Jamal

Songwriter: Keith Murray Jamal Erick Sermon

Producer: Rod “KP” Kirkpatrick Busta Rhymes Erick Sermon

[Verse 1: Erick Sermon (doing an Onyx voice)]
Testin one two three! Whoa I flow rhymes wicked
And bust some to keep me uplifted
It flows to my braincells like from smoke
I'm no joke, I make an old man croak because I'm loc'
I'm wild, psychosomatic
I got gats stored in my attic, for any crazy bastard
It's all in the mind when the E drops a rhyme
My freakin frame is like a pair of Calvin Klein's
I drop flows through Customs
And get sniffed out like I stole somethin when I'm bustin
I'm Don of mic with this shit
I rock on to the breaker one-nine ya dig??
Erick Sermon got funk for day
For those who wanna backstab me in the back, like the O'Jays!
Can't get these nuts on the real
It's gonna be a cold day in Hell before the E drops the steel! (ARRRRRRRRGH!)
I still rock with My Adidas
With Run-D.M.C. and Jay, my niggas packin heaters
So get off, get off, and if you want the real scoop
On the E Double, check the sounds!
I rise my eyes burnt like cherry
Get wise to my style more fly than Halle Berry
I don't know so I'm sayin bye-bye
Until next try

[Hook 1: Erick Sermon]
Def Squad is in the house, yo
Green Beret is in the house, yo
L.O.D. is in the house, yo
Keith Murray is in the house, yo

[Verse 2: Keith Murray]
And Jesus is a fuckin puppeteer
The devil cut my sights off, and I'm runnin wild in this atmosphere
For mad niggas it's curtains
I'm losin my mind in this biological universe
In my dreams I'll be gettin away drivin a hearse
So when I get to Hell, I'm stabbin up the Devil first
And leavin the skull decapitate his ass catchin wreck
Rip off his head and shit down his fuckin neck
From the little voice in my concious
I might just leave a crazy-ass unconscious
And Y, is a crooked letter like my alibi
A psychic couldn't tell the science of my mind
It's me against the world so y'all can all eat shit and die
'Cause I'ma gets mines, bitch!

[Hook 2: Erick Sermon]
West Coast is in the house, yo
East Coast is in the house, yo
N.Y.C. is in the house, yo
Lil' Jamal, is in the house, yo

[Verse 3: Jamal]
Biddi-bla-ba-ba-ba, how ya like the Squad now?
I'ma come down to represent the juveniles
I kick styles that niggas can't fuck with
'Cause when I come down I cold wreck the whole shit
Now who the fuck wanna see Jamal I fades em all
And any nigga that step up, he's sure to fall
Now I come down to be the illest, the realest
Any nigga that step up, I'm ready to peal his
Cap, sit back relax and dwell on the shit
'Cause I be the illest little kid I'm ready to rip
On any motherfucker that wanna step nigga
I'll let you know where the weapon is kept, how the fuck you figure
That you can fuck with me, I be the illest B.G
Busting from Philly, chillin up in Cali
Sally from the Valley fucked me and she burned me
So you know I got the illest and I earned my props B
Fo sho' I'm ready to rip any MC that step
And let them know where the weapon is kept
You punk bitch and I hit a switch
Any motherfucker step I dump him in the ditch