The Microphone Molesta’ The chevy undresser Stupid dope fresh tight sh*t resurrector Top gun man mod best of the besta’ The living MC peace and resta’ Still tested the flexed gunna’ The make funna the appisary make runna’ Make summa cold with rhymes that spit Get gifted, lifted, deliquent ’wit I be the prophet, in my hand Top it, stop it, felt like rockin when I rock it Locked it down with this perverse verse Every f*ckin’ curse I burst to hurt Room crowds physical fitness rhymes Coke heads couldn’t do my lines Decorated like christmas pines with Italian rocks MCs become silohetes in shock Chorus: Reading my eyes will say it in many ways Losing my pride will save it in many days Hit the dirt Because the words I spit will do more than just rip your shirt I’ll b*tch slap your soul Track the track control You coming at me? You can’t hack it though So rediculous Watching my crew get sick of this Wickedness Pitchin this Lyrical brichisness To crews and cliques Maiden, men, and mistresses This is my life The twilight, the fight night And trying to see nothing but the highlights When I write These eyes on horizons Top of Mike, start cries on to Krylon Fire on, rude men telekenetically As aterically beats become a clarity Feel averity’s heroism, and heracy And severe every MC I see with Neverity Chorus Why not What a keep (3x) Why not give me what I came to deserve Why not give me what I came to believe (2x)
