Fat Gold Chain lyrics

[Intro: Erick Sermon]
Woo! Uh, ah-ah, yeah-yeah, I, ah, ah, ah, ah
And you don't stop, yeah, ah-ah, word is bond, word is bond, uh

[Verse 1: Erick Sermon]
Now introducin' the sound from the ghetto
E Double and Too $hort, what the f*ck you thought?
I come with the ruckus, It's My Thing when I swing
I'm Born to Mack, always strapped with the black gat
Who out there? I swear boy, you, wanna get touched
Roll up, and catch a slug to the chest, so duck
I talk the talk, walk the walk, now n*gga
500 S drivin' with hand on trigger
Crazy loot I stack, check my track record
Everything I touch is gold since eighteen years old
So what that mean? I rolled the blunt
And puff the indo smoke in it, I trip in a minute
Crazy hoes be jockin' me 'cause I be rockin', B
Sew it up like Monopoly, nobody's stoppin' me
Dig it, Funkdafied like Brat, how's that?
I stick and move on tracks while I smoke a twenty sack
Who said the E can't rock? That's bullsh*t
Suck my di*k and get a big fat lick of my balls
You wanna brawl? Punk, I thought not
You might get beat down and stomped like Sasquatch
Your girl, like Keith Sweat, I wanna f*ck her
Psych, I already stuck her
Huh, I got rhymes to make your whole head swell up
Here's an icepack - homeboy, shut the hell up
I rock the mic with Too $hort, y'all n*ggas know what's happenin'
Everything he touch goes platinum
I-ya
[Verse 2: Too $hort]
I made a half a million in a week
And every n*gga on the street got a tape playin' me
You can't believe it? Erick Sermon, rollin' with $hort
Rolled from California all the way to New York
In big Benzes, G hooked it up
Now we tryna squash all that East/West stuff
We spent years in the studio makin' funky tracks
Signed a bunch of n*ggas with some tight ass raps
It's like Father Dom, it's like Keith Murray
Makin' millionaires but it ain't no hurry
'Cause we all in it for the long run
I won't leave the studio until the song's done
And ain't nothin' really hard about gettin' my cash
A big fat house with a million stashed
You other n*ggas got this rap game distorted
Givin' DATs to the label, straight gettin' shorted
Claim you gettin' paid, but I can't tell
You keep rappin' in my ear and got me mad as hell
You talk a good game but I don't believe in you
You smoked a lotta blunts but I got more weed than you
I guess I see you on the charts in the meanwhile
Another face in the crowd bustin' freestyles
Wishin' you could be in the light
Promoters pay me ten G's just to breathe on the mic, b*tch
$hort Dawg puttin' it down with the E Double
[Verse 3: Erick Sermon]
Shhhhh! You remind me of my fat gold chain
Some of y'all are just small change
Be a boss with true true game
Yeah-yeah
Dig this y'all, my Music is Dangerous
Atomic Dog, coming through the smog with $hort Dawg
Ah! Quick with the trig', Jack be nimble
I shoot like G Mob those lookin' through my window
Chick chick pow! How you like me now?
The man in the mirror, it don't get no clearer
$hort Dawg, the E Double, and Breed we roll thick
Like girls in CAU with the good power-U
Ow! Money is the key to fame
So I can live it up with the girls on Soul Train
The impact, major league dough like Dave Justice
Yo Breed, $hort Dawg, show 'em how we bust this

[Outro: Too $hort]
Like some true pioneers, don't forget it