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Hardcore to make the brothers act fools Hardcore to make the brothers act fools Hardcore to make the brothers act fools Hardcore to make the brothers act fools When I turn a party out, all hands is in the air Some say it's chill, New York throw chairs The punk funk sound to make a sane man flip Girls rush the stage, faggots cold dip Low to avoid the caps and blows By the gangbanners at the B-boy shows Wit the cops trying to control the crowd But they can't, systems crank So What'cha Saying's pumping loud Blows are thrown, heads are flown like Pan Am Brothers licking off like the son of Sam and The bass continues to thump Some brothers hit the parking lot to go pop trunks Hoes are slapped, jewels are snatched Brothers are caught in the cross fire without no Caps And on my way out, I heard a sucker scream and shout Niggas, Niggas, yea, cold turn the party out Hardcore to make the brothers act fools Rap combat squares sat and I attack Any crab MC that's down wit the wack And I wreck and if I can not snap a neck Throw a knock, I'll blow and look for a tech I'm terror, new edition to rap era I can't be beat, I'm too sweet plus clever I'm smart, yes, I'm a so called genius I'm equip wit the thinking cap they call Keenison Yo, wit that, I can break fool Especially when the posse is thick and got tools Make me feel good 'cause they got steel No blasters or cap guns son, the real deal K-A, microphone wrecker E-D The O, the U, the B, the L to the E Rocking on, word is born, so abandon ship My name is Erick Sermon now want some and I'll flip I'm far from a chump, I'm harcore like Brooklyn Mess wit me and get your manhood token Hardcore to make the brothers act fools