"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 fuck your head up like amphetamines 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 shit
 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 on the microphone
 Rip the shit to pieces, so leave me alone
 Check me out, the way I freak the mode
 The active half flippin shit 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 shit 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

 "The Redman that's what they call me" --> EPMD's 'Headbanger' (repeat 3X)
 [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 niggaz 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? pussy 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 shit's more raw than niggaz stashes
 Massive funk, swingin bangin bent up while I fucked ya
 I'm rough enough ta, fuck up another white man's trucker
 Redman's evil like the board of ouiji, niggaz could smoke
 a whole pound of weed and couldn't see me off the TV