I'm Mad
Erick Sermon: 
It's the E, and 
I'm smokin'. 
Wild like 
Tone Loc, 
I'm roastin, bakin' 
MCs, the E 
I'm not jokin' so back up, punk, slack up. 
Watch your weak posse, before they get smacked up. 
One by ONE, two by 
TWO, three by 
THREE, Yo 
P... [Parrish: What's Up, E.D.?] 
Pass the Uzi, to blow up, any wack 
MC that show up, there goes one, blast 'im now. [E, hold up.] *
Don't make me wait-wait* because it might be too late, the punk might escape, and buck whyle, and in fact, bite my style, and 
I'm-a catch a ******** charge, plus trial. 
It's my thing to swing, your first mistake to bring a duck 
MC that can't hang. 
Don't forget, 
I'm crazy swift. 
My name is 
Erick Sermon [yeah, and I'm Parrish Smith] 
I could act foolish, start blastin'. 
Ha ha ha ha, now who's laughin'? 
I'm-a let ya slide, but ya owe me, next time you see me... [...holler like ya know me!] 
I'm mad... 
Refrain: (Here's a little story, I've gots to tell) {scratching} (I'm mad!) 4x 
Parrish: My life story 
I tell straight from the heart. 
When suckers tried to crash my **** straight from start. 
A young black kid destined for success, no 
Old Gold, no *******, or buddha cess. 
Straight up hard work. 
No sleep and no shorts. 
Brainstormin' with the skills that 
Pop Duke taught. 
To keep swingin', yeah, and not to quit. 
Now I ride the 
Benz, you ride the ****, with your punk friends, straight up ***** from 
Punk City, my attitude's ****** up and real shitty. 
From the backstabbers, yeah my so-called friends, who swim in my pool. 
When it's time, flex the 
Benz, around town, windows down at the 
South Town, 
Cool J tape or 
K-Solo "Spellbound" 
With fly girlies dippin, brothers grippin' and sippin' 
Old Gold, 
Red Bull, hands on my **** and 
I'm just lampin' with my 
EK shades, truck-jewels, obviously the man's paid. 
But of course not, brother can't get his props like for instance, when 
I cruise up the block in my 560 lampin' on my 
Metro phone, chrome kit beamin' all off your dome. 
But like a sucka, yeah, you looked the other way 
That's how 
I knew you're on my **** kid, but it's okay. 
It's normal, relax, your whole head's busted. 
Caught in the rap skit, ya couldn't be trusted. 
Cuz my sounds pound from here to 
Okinowi...{kiss} peace and 
I'm ouuuutie! 
Refrain Erick: 
Stay tuned to this last episode, when 
I rock the house and the mic explodes. 
This is not the buckwild style that 
I be usin', in fact black, it causes {mass confusion} 
It's a fallout, when sucker 
MCs and crowds call out my name, oh what a shame 
I got {fame!} 
Parrish: I'm not a new jack, my rhymes are not wack, and in fact, 
I'm like Clint 
Eastwood, 'stead of bullets, rhymes 
I pack in my flow gun, so son, ya better run, cuz when it comes to hostage and prisoners, we take none. 
We move wax like kilos ...{scratch} and when my jam hits the streets, the sounds explode. 
Watch the right hook, duck the death blow jack, 
I wonder where the 
E and the 
P's at... [Can they do it again?] 
You bet your ass, black. [See you in '91] 
Until things get the bozack... [I'm mad...] 
Refrain