[Erick Sermon]
 Oh.. yeahhuhh!
 Def Squad

 Chorus: Erick Sermon

 It's all in the mind.. (Pump pump  lickin shots!) *7X*
 (Pump pump  lickin shots)

 [Erick Sermon]
 Aiyyo it's the master rap maniac  comin fat like dat
 That's my habitat  with the funk track
 From the Boondocks  when I rocks my styles out the docks
 Who who? I hear someone knockin at my door
 It must be Soup  a black human bein
 I think it's about time for y'all to see him

 [Soup]
 Sometimes I get blindsided with the flow, I never know
 They yell HOE, assumin the motions of a cool flow
 Notions of a cool, it's the S, Ohhhhhh
 Never come test, noooooooo, cause even the best'll have to
 go out with the rest, Nestea and a bag of sess for me
 Ackninckulous, I kill the weeds in my chest

 [Erick Sermon]
 Back on the rebound, it's the magnificents funkdullah
 Old schooler, more sole/soul than Dr. Scholl-ah
 Freakin wicked so it sticks in your dome
 On the chrome microphone so I take it home
 Don't neglect, just respect, the mic check
 Don't forget, I still snap necks and come correct
 I leave the microphone burnin (burnin)
 Green Eyed Bandit, my ? full name is Erick Sermon

 [Soup]
 Erick Sermon, sermon with the preaching
 I'm fuckin up people's heads without speaking, without speaking
 Clearly, loudly, niggaz crowd around the speaker
 to hear me freak the, note like Tamika
 But sweeter, sixty phoneta, sneaker if you
 peep the, jams and you reap the fields
 with the roots and uh, my name is Soup, and uh
 I flow like orange juice or Tropicana, and uh

 Chorus

 [Erick Sermon]
 Breaker breaker, shh, I hear some static
 Stop and get my automatic, the rusty one from the attic


 And shoot, or be killed, and if I ill I might cause
 a bloodspill so I have to chill and get
 totally disgusting on the microphone
 Whyyyyyyyyy, because it's onnnnn (it's on, IT'S ON)
 It's on (IT'S ON, IT'S ON, IT'S ON, IT'S ON!!)

 [Soup]
 The industry is a trick, and everyone is on the dick
 A cheap trick, just like ? like ?
 I peep it, everyone, wants me to sound like
 a ?, I'm dyin, before I get up from behind
 It's crushin up the rush of the rhyme in my mind
 Drink and trust - blind, think and trust - my, nine
 Because, nine lives nine triggers
 Fine rhymes equal the nine figures
 Yeah the cold cash, I hold a bold stash
 Yeah pockets next to my nineteen year old ass
 Yeah, God bless the child with his own
 God bless the roots and outsiders who zone
 Motherfuckers caps, get bucked in the dome
 Lick a shot, in his mad packed crazy chrome

 Chorus (  Soup shouting over)

 [Soup]
 Like that, but it's all words
 Words can kill more pens, than guns, and friends
 and foes, God knows, I chose the pros
 that rose, still froze-n, chose-n, YOU
 S-O-U and the P, E, R-I-C-K
 Erick Sermon, kickin a rhyme this way
 Yeah! It's all in, your mind
 It's all in, my mind
 It's all in, my mind