Verse One: Erick Sermon
 Code name E D  check on the one two three
 Black male hard MC
 Rap record slave  a brother on the scene
 with a machine gun and one magazine
 Wanted  a half a million for the body alone
 Two million for the microphone
 If you see him  dial 5 dash slayer
 A hotline to the governor and mayor
 He's armed wit ammo  a weapon that's mine
 All black in rap  strap tech nine
 Silencer clipped, check the rip on the sneak tip
 The boy's about ta flip
 Manslaughter (repeat 2X)
 They call him manslaughter
 Manslaughter
 Verse Two: PMD
 Code name MD, rappin fanatic
 No short taken, black Asiatic
 Hit man, keeps my belt unbuckled
 Book a look on my grill with no signs of a chuckle
 Or laughter, cause my name ain't Casper
 The Friendly Ghost, but I smoke an MC if I have to
 Quick fast like Alakazoo, Alakazam
 And I'll be damned, cuz my rhymes slam like Bam-Bam
 Rubble, partner code name is E-Double
 It's those hazel green eyes that keep my man in trouble
 Girls ride the tip, brothers on his sac
 I had to change my name to Bruce Wayne, also known as Bat-
 Man, and grab the bozack wit this hand
 As I slay ya manslaughter
 Manslaughter
 They call him manslaughter
 Manslaughter
 Verse Three: Erick Sermon
 Mad man fully strapped and I quote
 Don't flex, last chump who did, he got smoked
 Undercover, not D-T but E-D
 And wonder why you're spinning my records on thirty-three
 I'm the original, never did crime, I'm no criminal
 No static, pack a forty-five automatic
 Black cat strapped in rap, holding my Johnson
 Walking the streets, a vigilante Charles Bronson
 As the beat kick, face his plate on the M1 done
 Style's sharper than the blade in Shogun
 First suckers disrupt the brain of a sucker MC
 That can't count one two three
 I manage to damage, I roast the whole membrane
 Insane, like a basehead doing cocaine
 I kill a farmer, plus his daughter
 Cause I'm the E-Double, and this is manslaughter
 They call us manslaughter
 They call it manslaughter
 Manslaughter
 Verse Four: PMD
 As I stare deep into the mirror, I could only resort
 To a hardcore gangsta, penile train of thought
 You're stomped out, you're beat down, you go big top shit
 Run your trunk jewels or get, pistol whipped
 Cause I'm too swift to slip or miss a stitch on my rap hit
 Sleep on a sucker and you still can't get with
 me bro, wit this flow and I don't know Judo
 Gunflow is my style, say this so that you know
 There's no time to dance or romance with a nuisance
 Play ya like a puppet to put some lead in ya pants
 Then off you go to the rap rat pack
 Be stripped of your mic, punk on your head we stamped bozack
 That's what the doctor ordered
 Take two of these, dead, manslaughter
 They call it manslaughter
 They call it manslaughter
 Manslaughter
 To the farmer and his daughter, manslaughter