Lyrics:
They can use they dick for a pencil
I'm known for snatchin' purses
And bombin' churches
I get more pussy by accident than
Most niggas get on purpose
I
'm Too $hort baby on the microphone and I'm macking
I'm not a wannabe pimp, I never simp
Since I started walking I had this limp
It was a cool type
It's the truly exceptional Jan the man
Up behind the microphone stand
And like fuck do I give a fucking damn
About my supposed sicko rap brand
Fuck
realised I was the king of the rhyme
I got on the microphone and what do you see huh!
The rest was my legacy
I was born to be the king of the be bop swing
realised I was the king of the rhyme
I got on the microphone and what do you see huh!
The rest was my legacy
I was born to be the king of the be bop swing
I was sittin' on the corner just a-wastin' my time
When I realised I was the king of the rhyme.
I got on the microphone and what do you see?
Huh,
scissors and I choose to rock
I treat the microphone just like ma first born
Respect and I show a lot of love to it
You learn a lot when you listen to this
a fool
Cause I'm takin off from the tip-top of the key
with the rock passed by the Pharoahe M-O-N, see-H
the chosen lyrical soldier who backs me up
when
master madder, murder
Murder
Me na murder, massacre motherfuckers
Like it's nothing
Chief Priest I'm back on the microphone
Where I feel the safest
decade
That's doper than some shit these niggas just made
The blade gets sharper, time goes by
Everyday I get smarter, hair long but kept a fresh fade
daily dramas
Niggas coppin' bitin' styles
Decepti-commas
Like CNN at nine
I keep them honest
MCs
Who really killin' the microphone
High as drones
Fired up
live it. It's not a gimmick
Christ and Judas all in one spirit
True alcoholic, pour me my breakfast
Haunted by electronics, my mind is robotic
Easily I
has foreseen it all
In a Mason jar not a crystal ball
Across the land to and fro
He asked me how I didn't know
By the Ryman there's a microphone
Covered
Speaker pounding
I'm surrounded by the sounding
Call my hounds cause they down And we clowning on the town Party full of sinners
And they flashing
say you're so fake
And as the days go by, you can't forget
The way I make you feel like shit
MC's like you, I've seen 'em before
You keep
I'll say the ICE can't take it, time to microphone bake it
Raise the heatin' level, break out your coal shovel
Pump the temp, I'm sweatin' like a devil
microphones
And they all wanted back by they peeps
Sleep if you dare, 'cause death catch niggas when they sleep
Beware of the consequences, it's senseless
soft.
I was sittin' on the corner just a-wastin' my time
When I realised I was the king of the rhyme.
I got on the microphone and what do you see?
to sing and rap,
Hip-hop is my political map,
Lyrical spats like Tourette’s, are cured by the complex words I express,
And I’ll mail that Express, or UPS,
Ayo look here ...
Who the fuck do I be? (Witness!)
Drops bangin CDs (Witness!)
Bringin heat to the microphone crush all touch all
Chicks lined up on my
Y'all can suck my nuts through a suction cup
Small town small time ain't no place like home
But when I spit like this these MFs drop the microphone
da da, da do do
Uh, I'm somewhat brain boggled
So I look to the microphone and slowly start to wobble
Grab it, have it, stick it to the plug
It's
da da, da do do
Uh, I'm somewhat brain boggled
So I look to the microphone and slowly start to wobble
Grab it, have it, stick it to the plug
It's
I'm shovin' off like an ocean liner
No one can rock the microphone finer
East, west, north, South Carolina
Alex and Vivian chillin' at Mel's Diner
.jpg/270px-The_Microphones_(band).jpg "The Microphones")
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