What's The Word

Here comes the microphone style Here comes the microphone style Here comes the microphone style Check your head and duck and watch your back as the danger approaches I'm loaded up but you can get the load of the roaches I'm lost but I see you track the 9 skipping and hop the boat Yo, now it's time to go and let the shit flow The one motherfucker bringing the pain The name is D James, but you can call me Mr. Propane You see the problem is for you we keep it dangerous Ya find us in the glossary for what a future banger is Yo, I'm sipping the doctor motherfucking pepper Let her, dipping and dripping the rocker and undress her Then address her "I say did you have a good time" She said "yeah let me go again and make you mine" I said take your ass back to the line It ain't party without me, D James, or the Jaxn 5 Rolling the dice, I catch your snake eyes Fucking with the masta coming atcha stabbing 8 times Yeah, I can hear you screaming from the overview Im rolling like a lawn mower over you Ya girls hugging me and touching me, yeah You praising me cause the king is becoming me Here comes the microphone style (What's The Word) Here comes the microphone style (What's The Word) Here comes the microphone style (What's The Word) Yeah, here comes the microphone style (What's The Word) Here comes the microphone style (What's The Word) Here comes the microphone style (What's The Word) Yeah, here comes the microphone style (What's The Word) Yeah, here comes the microphone style I'm a, entrepreneur, I'm makin' moves with this precision From music to fashion, I'm expanding my fucking vision I'm a boss in the game, there ain't really no competition The people study my rhymes, like I'm a true metaphysician I transcend dimensions, with my fucking verbal inventions Unraveling these thoughts, breaking all those mental conventions Spitting rhymes so smooth, you in a daze, shut up and listen My flows defy laws, I'm beyond your comprehension I'm the grimiest, most slickest, with the rhymes that are wicked and vicious Post traumatic stress, I send your life into fucking remission This acme not Looney Tunes, blow your brains with a fucking ignition Your witnessing the proof of a dream that's coming to it's fruition No, I'm not finished yet Got you ducking your head, while I'm counting how many bullets left We don't shoot anything that's below the neck Pull up, blow blow, what I gotta do for you to show some fucking respect Handle on my side, I buss it up and pull it, one two Body laying emptily, his brain it pouring out goo Counting up the bullets, all I really need is 3 more Put you on a tee, you on a billboard up in New York Cause now I see these stupid bitches, they all tryna spite me Enlight me, I battle any of you tryna strike me I'm a bad mother fucker right through my fucking bright teeth Then make you and your crew uncomfortable, like some tight jeans I know so many people who dislike me But not once have they come try to touch me, come and excite me We see you talking hard on the net, you tryna entice me I come pull up to where all y'all live, I don't take this shit very so lightly Man, this my prophecy It's time that I start floating through life like this my philosophy Cause honestly, hypocrisy's one thing that's fucking stopping me I couldn't give a fuck though, I just do this shit so properly I move around real quick, I'm not into no damn photography My circle getting smaller, guess I got granted some modesty Went and ran up a check, all my bills come blue, not monopoly Hope IRS don't knock on my door, cause there's no apology You can't be just like me, cause we not on the same velocity What's the word What's the word What's the word What's the word