Rasmus Berg - Heat It Up lyrics

Published

0 143 0

Rasmus Berg - Heat It Up lyrics

[Hook] I keep the mic hot, I heat it up, kid I keep the mic hot, I heat it up [Verse 1] Mic check y'all Report to the floor The crowd wanted more so I came in the door The great Rakim, papermates to the pen Knowledge is born and a light strikes again Elements burst and gave birth to the verse Get the pen from the nurse and hook the mic up first When it absolutely positively has to be there on time I deliver a rhyme Now here come hip hop, hop to this one I got more kid, they hate to miss one Style got jazz and the crowd's out of control Cause I've got the mic and I've got the soul New York's own microphone technician Thoughts'll give 'em visions Style'll make you listen Devastates the ear, my opponents can't see me I gave 'em directions, but wrote it in graffiti But they wanna know my m.o. ease back though They want the exact flow, then study my steelo Sketch the skit, but they still can't see what I did I heat the mic up kid [Hook] [Verse 2] Then I explode with a song with a original form Or I'll perform it at high mode, they want the code Destroyed the blueprints and documents and hits Crews been, um, looking for clues ever since Beats start brewing up, rhymes is rough Stages and microphones self-destruct And when you thought you had the format down pat You get kicked back to the doormat with that Cause I've got a high tech style with know-how Select the file watch the crowd go wild Bad beats to bless; females' finessed Points I stress cause a cardiac arrest Mics too hot for you to hold in your hands Now they sell 'em with built-in fans and mic stands Mine still overheats, if you touch it you can see what I did I heat the mic up kid [Hook] If there's opponents that wanna rap, tell 'em ease back I've got a knapsack with hip hop attacks Stacks of artifacts, formats interact Tracks at the max, and you can't relax Rakim's equipped with penmanship That my pen make, I've been graduatin' from Penn State I could take any trade and make a high grade Even get extra credit when the rhyme's displayed As soon as I manifest, they cheat off my test Surround my desk and then stress the progress But they miss the point, forget the skit I'll bust your lip if you flip the script Brother's ain't cool and I'mma smoke up the room And I've got a crew called the last platoon Figure it out kid, problems coming Emcees are running cause I'm the gunman Extremely dangerous I bust rhymes into the crowd And watch 'em all scream out loud Aw man, and then I slam like a batter-ram Ra got the plan with your favorite jam [Hook]