[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]