Epidemic - Mic Masters lyrics

Intro "L.A. Is a third world city. We are a third world city For much of what exists. And if you don't claim your children The streets and gangs will raise them" "Epidemic. The type of cats that you n***as don't wanna rhyme after We let the mental chrome blast ya So when i ask ya, you better answer who's the microphone master" Chorus Yo we the microphone masters, abusing mics with lyrics That might just blow past ya, we're super rhyme makers Yo we're like the soul snatchers, my crew gets trife My n***a we microphone masters, my views defy nature Eyo we microphone masters, abusing mics with lyrics That might just blow past ya, we're super rhyme makers We're like the soul snatchers, my crew gets trife My n***a we microphone masters, my views defy nature Verse 1 (Hex One) Eyo these times plague us. But why react with fear to see it trap me in? When crime rates get raised the stats you hear could teach the fact we sin For high wages. The path is clear for seeds that have to live where Sky scrapers graze the atmosphere beneath its abdomen This rhyme's dangerous. The thesis that releases pathogens In beats is back to sting the track again, word up Proceed to grab the pen and write raps as nights pa** described as Light jabs that hit the pad like knife stabs for price tags This cold city is known really for trife cats and rude folks Who roam freely with no pity for blue coats. Some roll gritty and do dope This bold theory I wrote clearly and drew notes For broke willies that smoke nearly the whole philly in two tokes For those wit me i spew quotes for you, at an acute dose And through growth you prove close to crew. No matter what dudes boast It's true yo. So let it sink in, whenever these inks blend it links with What a n***a was thinking, so view this glucose induced post Dramatic stress. The most erratic text, the adept addict at his best So who grossed the fattest checks? You better add its debts, recoup doe And grab the rest. My clan is next to snag whats left. I'm through tho (Word up son) Chorus Verse 2 (Tek-nition) Verbal burst with metal projectiles. Serve you first with several perfect Styles, rebels and exiles, curses worse than devils and reptiles Murderous stepchild who dissects through medical x-files Search and get stretched out in a hearse with elegant textiles Crevices d**h piles reaches the ma**es. The reaper's in action Either relax or else the heat turn your features to ashes From ashes to ash and dust to dust, from dusk 'til its dawn They act what they rap and acting tough and bluff on their songs They act like I can't devour boulders (What's up) My trial a disorder Like rigor mordis bars are broader than Dwight Howard's shoulders Cowards posing like they be bosses man this sh** is preposterous Really obnoxious whenever these n***as be flossing posing with Gritty responses. My delivery: monstrous, enemies: cautious Energy: off the richter scale these victims fell I'm sending Them off into the grips of hell (well) my n***as rolling with me The gun-shine state, still known as the coldest city (n***a, what?) "True master makers of this rhyme sh**, microphone user Microphone master, super rhyme maker" Chorus "The flavor misbehavior from the super duper…"