All In The Mind - Album Version (Explicit) Lyrics
| Song | All In The Mind - Album Version (Explicit) |
| Artist | Erick Sermon |
| Album | No Pressure |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 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 ****in 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 | |
| Mother****ers 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.. |
| 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. schollah | |
| 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 in 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 | |
| Mother ers 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 frozen, chosen, you | |
| Sou and the p, e, rick | |
| 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.. |
| 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. schollah | |
| 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 in 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 | |
| Mother ers 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 frozen, chosen, you | |
| Sou and the p, e, rick | |
| 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.. |
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