Erick Sermon - Future Thug lyrics

(feat. 11/29, Redman)

[Verse One: Erick Sermon]

Aiyyo everybody hands up

Run yo' bling bling, nigga boy stand up

It's E-Dub, whassup?

Yeah I'm bouncin, large amounts of cash we countin

That stand tall like mountains

To bring the drama, it takes a second man (that's it)

One wrong move, "Bring the Pain" like Method Man

It's your boy

Damnit, it's the Bandit, new Hummer in transit

Twenty-seven inches come standard (YO!)

This my people, whether drivin the Benz, the Pinto

Or the Regal, the Range Rover, the Beatle (uh)

I'm in New York now but I represent the SWATS of A-Town

When I touch down amid grounds

Me and L-Dub and Redman, that's it mo'fuckah

You heard what I said man, that's real (what the deal)

It's E-Dub, pronounce it right

Eyes green like Kryptonite, so good night!

[Chorus]

What y'all want? Y'all want this?

We give it to ya, we future thugs

We up in yo' crib like, we up in yo' club like

We up in yo' hood like, we future thugs

[Verse Two: 11/29]

Where niggaz be thinkin the, Cadillac's on 23's

Bitch bring with the DVD's, old school bucket seats

South Memphis to College P, Decatur to N.Y.C.

Top droppin that Benz 'til it, came with the leather seat

Back up off my whip or I jump out and cause a tragedy

St. Louis to Florida, from N.Y. to Tennessee

Them boys ride 20's, them niggaz from the hay

Them boys flickin Bentleys, Benz, Lex and Escalades

Them boys ride clean, twist and turnin in yo' face

With that chameleon paint, fresh as {?}

I pull up in a fo'-fo'-two with E-Dub

With a convertible top on the Chevy, we like what

Def Squad in this piece, you want it we give it to ya

You don't want no trouble with me, I might do ya

And tear the club up with E-Dub and that nigga {*bang*}

Better respect my gangsta I stay with two Rugers

[Chorus]

[Verse Three: Redman]

Yo, I ain't a thug but I do thug things nigga so hold me down

Forty round, caliber spitter, that's how the shorty crown

Run with gordy hounds for 40 miles then ignore me now

Duck +Motowns+ than Barry Gordy found, sorry clown!

Super future thug, 12 shoe shoot you through the rug

James Bond, watch on my arm, tellin me who to truck

My God's my gun, don't need him since cerebreal cock

Beat him size ammo three to five mammal we the Gods

that'll shit on your turf, that'll get in your skirt

I heard Alicia, so my dick give what a woman is worth

I make them niggaz blow... then hide 'em inside 'em

My noggin is strange when them dogs is ridin

Cause I'ma, cheap fucker, street usher, eat supper with

pack of wolves that act a fool, blood on they upper lip

Need a nigga, I'm that nigga to call, nigga to draw

chainsaws to the brawl, cuttin ya ligaments off

[Chorus]