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Too Many Rappers(2009 single version)Mic check, mic check One, two, three Too many rappers and there's still not enough MCs It goes three, two, one MCA, Adrock, Mike D, that's how we get it done Like ladies and gents, attention Nas in the house with Beastie Boys We can turn it out Perpetrators, we can point 'em out So if you've got something on your mind, let it out Yo! I've been in the game since before you was born I might still be MCing even after you're gone Strange start, I know, but my skills still grow The 80s, the 90s, 2000s, and so On and on until the crack of dawn Until the year 3000 and beyond Stay up all night, I MC And never die 'cause death is the cousin of sleep Because I'm back with a bang, boogie oogie oogie Strawberry Letter 23 like Shuggie Oh my god, just look at me Grandpa been rappin' since '83 I'm supersonic like J.J. Fad Got crazy-ass shit pullin' out the bag Don't forget the tartar sauce, yo! 'cause it's sad All these crab rappers, they're rapping like crabs I have carte blanche, the vagabond Nas is the narcissist My pockets are rotund I'm no killer But compared to you, I'm more realer You ain't a shot caller mobster or a drug dealer A slug peeler, you're not Mafioso, no You ain't got the cut-throat in ya, beginner I ain't tryin' to hear your racket You work for police, dog, you snitch, you rat You wear that jacket How many rappers must get dissed? Gimme eight bars and watch me bless this I start to reminisce when I miss The real hip hop with which I persist Like rum and mojitos Bullets and banditos Matzo balls and soup Jackets and troop Yes, y'all! This is one is for the history books Nasty Nas, what's the word? Count it off in the hook One, two, three Too many rappers and there's still not enough MCs It goes three, two, one MCA, Adrock, Mike D, that's how we get it done Like ladies and gents, attention Nas in the house with Beastie Boys We can turn it out Perpetrators, we can point 'em out So if you've got something on your mind, let it out 'Cause this the type of lyric that goes inside your brain To blow you bullshit rappers straight out the frame My lyrics spin 'round like a hurricane twister So get your hologram off of Wolf Blitzer Too many rappers to shake a stick at I ought to charge a tax for every weak rap I had to listen to 'Cause we've been makin' $tack$ like Stax Records My squad, we got a pact We're never comin' wack To all you crab rappers, and hackers, and circuit benders tweaked on Splenda I take the cake, I stole the mould The golden microphone, well, that's mine to hold Now why all these biters all up in my crotchspace Sniffin', buffin', huffin' And mean muggin' with the Blimpie Bluffin Back up off me, sucker! You ain't sayin' nothin'! I'm broader than Broadway I was the project hallway Dual tape recorder Lacing oratorials all day I'm just gettin' started on this beat, this is foreplay And when the song's finished, I can sing along with this By the way, I have a strong fetish for Christian Louboutin steppers I hear Russian blonde's the wettest But anyway, y'all better pay homage to my fellas And that's what's on my mind and on the rhyme Who's next up? Mike D, the man of mystery History in the making and now we're taking Titles, awards, and accolades Skewer the competition as I sharpen my blades We come together like peanut butter and sandwiches Like pen and paper, like Picasso and canvases Rockin' stadiums to shitty bars Go back in time, send a fax from my car One, two, three Too many rappers and there's still not enough MCs It goes three, two, one MCA, Adrock, Mike D, that's how we get it done Like ladies and gents, attention Nas in the house with Beastie Boys We can turn it out Perpetrators, we can point 'em out So if you've got something on your mind, let it out |
B Boys in the CutTo the, to the, to the people up top!Bam! God damn! Holy mackerel, pulling suckers' cards out the satchel You can sleep tonight, it's okay B Boys in the cut and we're here to stay Vibration, sensation Chatter up on the mic and it's an incantation Revelation, elation A little patience with the tribulations Heed my flow, I got more in store Rhymes are not just for breakfast anymore Always on vacation, like Clark and Rusty Don't wanna make the beer fest, trust me B Boys in the cut, and we're here to stay B Boys in the cut until our dying day Your wack style is beyond a pale Heel up, wheel up, to the one Judge Smails Come at me with rain, I'm coming back with hail My broad sword will cut through your chain mail Well, Adrock, (back up, Mike) one of the greatest of all time, no disrespect I gotta go for mine Big Mike D, number spitting lead paint Bringing it back, begin da oh-ah-oh-ah A-D-R-O-C-K spells relief There's holes in my story like Leon Spinks' teeth Good grief, the middle name's Keefe I keep a microphone in a little, weird sheath B Boys in the cut, and we're here to stay B Boys in the cut until our dying day I'm like Oscar the Grouch Trashy, rockin' Derelicte, flashy I keep it raw y'all Just imagine the 42nd Street C train bathroom I sizzle on the mic like a battered fried fish Pundits in the house say -- WHAT! -- that's rich! This is the type of shit that's gonna scratch that itch Now I'm-a set it off from up inside this bitch I see you're looking at me and thinking "What him do?" Well, I rap upon this mic, Mike D, Sweet Lou Also known as Pretty Lou, a-k-a Pretty Mike I switch up my name pretty much how I like This routine dates way back A lot of people may remember this routine But it's evolved now Yeah, from the summer before last Well, my name is Mike D, and I got a new name, and that new name is LARRY! Well, my name is Adrock, and then I got a new name, and my new name is HARRY! Well, my name is MCA, but I got a new name, and that new name is GARY! Well, our DJ's name has stayed the same, 'cause his new name is BARRY! |
Pop Your BalloonRickity-rickity-rickity-rickity-wow!I got the golden style You people go wild when I bless this crowd Ooh to the ahh, to the ooh to the eee You want to know who funky and I said 'Je suis' Well, I give you a wedgie, I give you a noogie Put my foot up your ass, electric boogie Break dancing at your door on a pile of shit Set the bag on fire for the fuck of it I bust into your radio station, chuck a smoke bomb Put on my gas mask and put my tape on By the time you figure out what went wrong Light up my jet pack and I'm gone Pop your balloon, pop-pop your balloon Pop your balloon, pop-pop your balloon Pop your balloon, pop-pop your balloon Pop your balloon, pop-pop your balloon I grab my mic and people lose their minds And twist their hands in the air and bop their heads in time Rockin', shoutin' (do your dance, Mike) Because I'm built for speed like a Tour de France bike I got the tape spinnin' in the echoplex I keep the competition sealed under a hex And if you waste my time then I get vexed I'm eatin' MCs up, like for breakfast Like Franz Harary, I'm a magic man Films in the cam, cat's in the bag, carpet is shag You can try to take the boast, but you can't take the brag Pop your balloon, pop-pop your balloon Pop your balloon, pop-pop your balloon Pop your balloon, pop-pop your balloon Pop your balloon, pop-pop your balloon We come together upon the mic and rock it We got styles ain't none of y'all can top it We in the cut and, yes, we in the pocket We're getting down and that's right, that's right, that's right, that's right... Yo, because I'm down in the basement mixin' up ink I'm on the edge and I'm on the break You've got the press, and I've got the plates We pressin' twenties by the crate Yes, we make it happen with the rappin' With the crunch with the Cap'n and the Boo Berry With Count Chocula, the sound that you love We've been getting fly with the highest above I'm on, the one, the battle tank in Tron You're too far gone -- ARGH! -- another pawn Guide searching, what channel is he on? 'Cause there ain't no sunshine when Mike D's gone Pop your balloon, pop-pop your balloon Pop your balloon, pop-pop your balloon Pop your balloon, pop-pop your balloon Pop your balloon, pop-pop your balloon... Yo, the sound man almost lost his soup on that one He's still contemplating it though Oh-oh, look out! |
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