Epmd - Crossover Lyrics
(erick sermon)Erick sermons in the houseLets get up, lets get downRoll wit the hardcore funk, the hardcore soundLets get wit this, mackadocious funk materialSo simple, when I rock wit the instrumentalWho am I (e-d the green eyed bandit)Control my career so I can never get strandedBut the rest are gettin brand nubianChanged up they style, from jeans to suits andThinkin about a pop record, somethin made for the stationFor a whole new relation-Ship of a new type of sceneTo go platinum and clock mad greenAka, a sellout, the rap definitionGet off that boy, change your missionCome back around the blockPump color me badd to the ah, tick tockLet them know your logo, not a black thingMy background sing, my background sing for the crossoverThe crossover(pmd)The rap eras outta control, brothers sellin their soulTo go gold, going, going, gone, another rapper sold(to who) to pop and r&b, not the mdIm strictly hip-hop, Ill stick to kid capriFunk mode, yea, kid, thats how the squad rollsI know your head is bobbin cuz the neck knows(not like other rappers) frontin on they fans, the illTrying to chill, saying damn, it be great to sell a millThats when the mind switch to the pop tip(kid, youre gonna be large)Yea right, thats what the company kicksForget the black crowds, youre wack nowIn a zoot suit, frontin black lookin mad foulI speak for the hardcore (ruff, rugged and raw)Im outta here, catch me chillin on my next tourFrom the us to the white cliffs of doverStrictly underground funk, keep the crossoverThe crossover(erick sermon)(so what cha sayin) you wanna go pop goes the weaselYou know you should be rocking the fans wit something diezelBut you insist to piss me off blackSo I flex the biceps so I can push em backSo real hardcore hip-hop continue wreck itAnd all sucker mcs duck down and get the messageSo ban the crossover, yo, whos wit me(hit squad) yea, p, hit me(pmd)Another megablast, funky dope style from cross yonder(so help me rhonda, help, help me rhonda)(yo, from what) the crossover, yea crossing you overOutta here, gone, peace, nice to know ya (see ya)What a way to go out, no clout is what the fans will shoutCuz you got gassed and took the wrong routeCame on the scene, chillin, freakin a funky dope lineBut when they finish wit you (beep) flatlineSome say theres no business like show businessBut if this the truth, please explain why is thisRappers been around long, makin mad noise you seeStill I havent seen one rapper livin comfortablyNo time to pick and wish on a four leaf cloverI stick to underground, keep the crossoverThe crossover
