Aw, ya'll done fucked up now
Oh boy, it's the Brainstream
Blazing the green, rip a Mic
No matter how wasted I seem, yeah
"Is this what you want?"
[Verse]
Yeah, yo, yo
I wreck that shit when I mic check that shit
Canibus, nigga he the best that spit
Fuck the fact I never had a hit
I don't need it cuz I never met a rapper that I ain't rip
Walk strapped wit' a mic and a 50 minute DAT for the night
Just in case your show ain't tight
Step on stage and pace left and right
Like a lion ready to bite, you dying tonight
More lines to your forehead than Brian McKnight
Thousand watt voice box, I'm a fry 'em tonight
I been shittin' on sight
Meticulous with the mic
It's a mic but I rip it like I'm palming a knife
Lyricist that don't lounge
Break a nigga down
Since you iced out you can keep the swelling down
Lift you off the ground with chokehold till your bitch screams
"Let him down, he's a mic club member now!"
Beat you wit' my brow
Forced you to speak loud
Like motherfuckers give me 50 bars right now
Plus another 50, that's not 100
You spit 86, you trying to tell me you can't count?
Throw you in the sweat box, let you sweat it out
1, 2, 3, 4 is one bar, figure it out
You civilian maggots ain't ready for the illest rappers
Allied metaphors in the joint axis
Computative, compliance, in the rhyme science
Protected by the Mic Club security advisers
Pick the mic up and train
'Til my voice becomes number one again on the Merchantile exchange
Too violent to tame
Wolfsbane pumps thru my veins
'Cuz I never was embraced by the game
Put emcees to shame
The lyrical linguist, spitting vintage, colloquial English
Like 'Who art thou, bow to the 10 inch dick sucketh it'
I'm the alpha male of this shit
I'm the king of the pack, bringing it back
Tell the queen of the pride to come sit in my lap
Her body is spotless, she ain't got one scratch
So you could keep them other ugly bitches in the back
Oh boy, it's the Brainstream
Blazing the green, rip a Mic
No matter how wasted I seem, yeah
"Is this what you want?"
[Verse]
Yeah, yo, yo
I wreck that shit when I mic check that shit
Canibus, nigga he the best that spit
Fuck the fact I never had a hit
I don't need it cuz I never met a rapper that I ain't rip
Walk strapped wit' a mic and a 50 minute DAT for the night
Just in case your show ain't tight
Step on stage and pace left and right
Like a lion ready to bite, you dying tonight
More lines to your forehead than Brian McKnight
Thousand watt voice box, I'm a fry 'em tonight
I been shittin' on sight
Meticulous with the mic
It's a mic but I rip it like I'm palming a knife
Lyricist that don't lounge
Break a nigga down
Since you iced out you can keep the swelling down
Lift you off the ground with chokehold till your bitch screams
"Let him down, he's a mic club member now!"
Beat you wit' my brow
Forced you to speak loud
Like motherfuckers give me 50 bars right now
Plus another 50, that's not 100
You spit 86, you trying to tell me you can't count?
Throw you in the sweat box, let you sweat it out
1, 2, 3, 4 is one bar, figure it out
You civilian maggots ain't ready for the illest rappers
Allied metaphors in the joint axis
Computative, compliance, in the rhyme science
Protected by the Mic Club security advisers
Pick the mic up and train
'Til my voice becomes number one again on the Merchantile exchange
Too violent to tame
Wolfsbane pumps thru my veins
'Cuz I never was embraced by the game
Put emcees to shame
The lyrical linguist, spitting vintage, colloquial English
Like 'Who art thou, bow to the 10 inch dick sucketh it'
I'm the alpha male of this shit
I'm the king of the pack, bringing it back
Tell the queen of the pride to come sit in my lap
Her body is spotless, she ain't got one scratch
So you could keep them other ugly bitches in the back
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