Open Mic - Science of the Bumrush lyrics

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Open Mic - Science of the Bumrush lyrics

[Intro: All] 4, 3, 2, 1 [Verse 1: Celph Titled] In this rap game you can say your better than me But on the streets you can't crack as many heads as me I take beef seriously, I'd rather beat you with the mic Than let you battle me with the rhymes you wrote last night Those battles in the park you can save that for the 80's How I'm a let n***as when they whole crew tried to degrade me Give me your albums, run to the store sell 'em back Flatten your frame and use your body as a welcome mat No hospitality, I'll just show you a hospital I make moves and do things, even God would say's impossible A wild animal, eager to break the chain lock Your b**h wasn't Asian, but she sure as hell could "Bangkok" I get paid just to talk over beats Step in your hood, act like I own it, walk all over your streets A lot of herbs don't like Celph, and say he's not underground But I'm a blow soon, so y'all can just hate on me now I represent New York City, and the life that it leads Hustle for dough and stick a ho until her f**ing p**y bleeds [Verse 2: Open Mic] Ayyo I'm too hot blow the spot Nitroglycerin, sizzling Dropping more lines then fisherman With hooks to keep you listening Feel the friction, cause my diction Going to make you move like eviction Demigodz in the jurisdiction Keep it in mind like intuition You think you hitting but your missing Cats wishing that they had the ammunition To witness the documentary of how my raps written I inhale a breath within my chest before I'm blessing hip-hop I'm taking every shot I got like bulletproof vests I never said that I'm the best but I'm better than you Try to step but I'm ten steps ahead of your crew I'm deaden you and every fake move you make Embedding you in the dirt till I cause earthquakes Say you never heard of me, but your ho knows my name Yo it's Open Mic, screaming on tracks like Lois Lane [Verse 3: Apathy] You couldn't spit if you were a virgin b**h who hates swallowing Leave you wit fat lips like chicks getting collagen Implants to enhance Lips to blow My dick for dough I'm slick rocking kicks and clothes Your girl buys me A little upset it don't surprise me I get more freaks between sheets than the Isleys My record is tight for wrecking the mic I know some ho at my show's getting naked tonight And all the promoters know if I'm setting it right There'll be cops in riot gear expecting a fight I'm off the hook Ya'll are just soft and shook So don't start it The meanest in Adidas Make a genius look retarded Ap's got more raps Than cats got drug raps Slug caps Or gats on thug tracks I need somebody to blast that Cuz I got the bomb set Like a Vietnam vets flash back [Verse 4: Celph Titled] Yo, I rip the head off n***as that try to oppose And I don't like to talk to hoes Unless they don't where clothes Any rapper out there that think they better than Celph Can get decapitated with your head on my shelf Just as a little trophy that I like to collect I make beef jerky strips from the skin on your neck I throw your hype man off the stage from running his mouth Me and my n***as on the corner straight dunnin it out With the semi-auto heat complete with chrome nozzle Jump on the FDR with the whip at full throttle My ancestors came from the island of Cuba Now I transcend the legacy thru chips in computers And take trips to Bermuda, with nothing else to do Swear my self under the oath and never tell the f**ing truth I be so blasphemous I seek shelter in storms Beyond the norm avoid the lightning when I'm in human form Every verse I write is cla**ic felt by heads everywhere Celph Titled number one master of the dragon's lair A bone carpenter make figurines out of your skeleton Rob you of your soul and take it with me back to hell again [Verse 5: Open Mic] Picture perfectionism Whenever I bless the rhythm I make heads spin like Rock Steady exorcisms Open Mic's the type of emcee who rips scenes Bullets stream I'm cutting you clean like wolverine With claws popped After the verse your jaws dropped I'm raw hot Big dick You're all small co*k I'm gangsta (Wait, no he's not) I'm atomically nuclear solar supernova hot Defeating me is an impossible plan I burn emcees like a tropical tan Because no obstacle can Stand in the way of one unstoppable man I knock your dick in the dirt And put your face in the sand For those who bite or copy me I'm striking like the lottery The mic's apart of me That goes together like ghettos and poverty And don't follow me It's possibly due to my high velocity Philosophy (And I'll f** your mom muthaf**a) [Verse 6: Apathy] I got the whole entire planet saying Apathy's fly That's why they play me in their walkmans till their batteries die From the thugs at crack spots That listen with gats co*ked To cats on laptops To jock whatever Ap drops These underground backpacker's think I'm crazy Cuz my favorite emcees are Biggie Smalls and Jay-Z I'm dropping data that could make your Pentium break And dick that could make a veteran lesbian straight You want to test like a [?] competed Stop playing, Ap will never be defeated I leave the competition mentally stressed Like teenage girl taking a pregnancy test You better drop the mic from your hand You ain't the man You just an overly obsessed fan like Stan When you finally built the courage to spit, ask Celph (Yo the songs over money you played your self)