Song Spotlight 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
![[Top]](/images/2top.jpg) |
Song Spotlight B Boys in the Cut
To 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!
| Song Spotlight Pop Your Balloon
Rickity-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!
|
