Artist: Erick Sermon f/ Soup Album: No Pressure Song: All in the Mind Typed by: OHHLA Webmaster DJ Flash [Erick Sermon] 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 fuckin 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 Motherfuckers 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..