[Erick Sermon] Ah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Funkmaster Flex here with the Final Chapter. Volume 3, understand that. Squadron - Das EFX, Keith Mur', Redman, and Nocturnal. EPMD ‘98, understand that. New year, new chear. New cash Flow, understand it, 1-2. Yeah, feel me on this one, uh-uh..
We up in D and D, makin it happen once more I'm lookin for the Fugees, to split The Score Y'know what I mean, I'm out for the dough, no less When I get a hundred mill, to spend, there's no stress And you cats kill me It takes more than dreams to fulfill me, y'all feel me? Cock the automatic I'm systematic Michael Jackson Screaming On those emcees not believing I got up and I wrecked em quickly Black out, no doubt, you won't even believe Ripley Don't shit me, I see right through your frame, its frail You and your crew live a tall tale Squadron, understand it ED, the Black human-being, The Green-Eyed Bandit Come inside, and let me show you whats about Like Sean "Puffy" Combs, boy, there's No Way Out, nigga
[Parrish Smith]
EPMD, Funk Flex, yo, Volume 3: Final Chapter Gotta blast ya, crash ya, total your frame, when I smash ya You get plastered, trying to fuck with the master The MC slasher, stock bonds, and check casher The rapper for neons, crushing peons Nice like ?be-on?, in ‘98, EPMD's on The grand finale, from New York, Back to Cali Ghetto style, for the projects and the street alleys Funk Flex, desert eagle with the techs Teflon vest, hollowpoints, with the silver tips Ties chrome-dipped, leather for the Benz whip Diamond bracelet, plus a muzzle for the wild pit The Squadron, shutting shit down in a hurry EPMD, Red, Noc', Das, plus Keith Murray
Word them up. EPMD. Erick Sermon, Parrish Smith, for the ‘98. Final Chapter: Volume 3, Funk Flex.
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