Swing It Over Here Lyrics - Erick Sermon

"Kick it over here baby pop!" 

Swing it over here! 

Yo swing it over here! 

Swing it over here! 

C'mon swing it over here! 

Y'all swing it over here! 

Yo swing it over here! 

Come swing it over here! 

Yo swing it over there! 

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 

Swing it over here! 

Yo swing it over here! 

Swing it over here! 

C'mon swing it over here! 

Y'all swing it over here! 

Yo swing it over here! 

Come swing it over here! 

Yo swing it over there! 

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 saw 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 

Swing it over here! 

Yo swing it over here! 

Swing it over here! 

C'mon swing it over here! 

Y'all swing it over here! 

Yo swing it over here! 

Come swing it over here! 

Yo swing it over there! 

"The Redman that's what they call me" 

"The Redman that's what they call me" 

"The Redman that's what they call me" 

Oh no, here comes the Funkadelic Redman 

Aw my goodness! Could this be 

The funk that I was stretching out my lungs 

Funkadelic sums up 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 to, 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!