[Intro – Wyclef]
Pick up your microphones
Pick up your microphones
[Hook]
How many mics do we rip on the daily
Say, me say many money say me say many many many
How many mics do we rip on the daily
Many money say me say many many many
[Verse 1 – Lauryn Hill]
I get mad frustrated when I rhyme
Thinking of all the kids that try to do this for all the wrong reasons/
Season change mad things rearrange/
But it all stays the same like the love doctor Strange/
I'm tame like the rapper, get red like a snapper when they do that/
Got your whole block saying true that/
If only they knew that it was you who was irregular/
Sold your soul for some secular muzak that's whack/
Plus you use that, loop over and over, claiming that you got a new style/
Your attempts are futile, oooh child/
Your puerile brain waves are sterile/
You can't create you just wait to take, my tapes/
Laced with malice, hands get callous/
From ripping microphones from here to Dallas/
Go ask Alice if you don't believe me, I get Inner Visions like Stevie/
Essential from the chalice like the weed be/
Indeed be like Khalil Muhammad, MC's make me vomit/
I get controversial, freak your style with no rehearsal/
Ooo, contraire mon frere, don't you even go there/
Me without a mic is like a beat without a snare/
I dare to tear into your ego/
We go, way back like some ganja and pelequo/
Or Coleco-Vision, my mind makes incisions in your anatomy/
And I'll back this with Deuteronomy/
Or Leviticus, God made this word; you can't get with this/
Sweet like licorice, dangerous like syphilis, yeah/
[Hook]
[Verse 2 – Transcendent]
I gets down like Chilean miners
And to my rivals: you disgust me like you're getting down with Chilean minors
Your sh** is uninspired, I'm off the meat rack
Freaking on this Refugee track, bring the beat back
You b**hes shallow, deny it as you kick and yell
Couldn't go deep if you started rolling with Adele
When I got the mettle geared, you know I give ‘em hell
I go Son of Sam Fisher when I splinter cells
Oh, you say you've never heard of me?
Well I'm that dude ripping rappers til I have ‘em dripping burgundy
Burdened with murder in the 3rd degree
I'm bringing menus to my venues, only right the way I serve emcees
Damn y'all, I'm gonna need a Percocet
All these politicians be getting on my nerves again
The borders of America are covered by a circus tent
Certain it's worthless in terms of sense but what's it worth in yen?
And if it's torn what's the purchase then?
I'm just trying to figure out what the value is and circumvent
Any tomfoolery ‘cause truthfully: you screw with me
Two people doing dealings turns to family reading eulogies
*huge breath* I needed room to breathe
From people asking which people rapping are the true emcees
Listen, if they're spitting then they have a right to call ‘em that
But that doesn't mean that all of them are called to rap
I'm done with all of that; Clef, bring the hook in
You should follow now ‘cause I know you're gonna look then
[Hook]
[Verse 3 – Wyclef Jean]
I used to be underrated, now I take iron, makes my sh** constipated
I'm more concentrated
So on my day off
With David Sonnenberg I play golf
Run through Crown Heights screaming out, Mazel Tov!
Problem with no man
Before black, I'm first human
Appetite to write like Frederick Dougla** with a slave hand
Street pressure word to poppa, I ain't going under
One day I'll have a label and make deals with Tommy Motolla
Momma always told me "You're one in a million"
Always watch your back, never tangle with Haitian Sicilians
Now I got a record deal, "How does it feel?"
I'm never gonna survive unless I get crazy like Seal
Cause the whole world's out of order
So at night the fiend's dance on Grease with John Travolta
One got slaughtered as he coughed blood from his mouth
The other tried to duck and caught a left with my Guinness Stout
Brother brother can't you get this through your head
This is set up by the fed's they're scoping us with their Infra-reds
[Hook]
[Verse 4 – Prazwell]
Too many MC's not enough mikes
Exit your show like I exit the turnpike
Dicing dynamite like Dolomite
Double do's been like I don't Dick Van Dyke
Star light to star bright the freaks come out at night
Like my man Wyclef - "I wear my sungla**es at night"
And my panache will mosh your entourage
Squash the squad and hide their bodies under my garage
And when the cops come looking, I be booking to Brooklyn
-Leave the trails broken flipping tokens to Hoboken
A clean Getaway like Alec Baldwin
Driving in my fast car playing Tracy Chapman
[Hook]