Music Service


by Beastie Boys feat Nas
Lyrics by:
# Debut Chart
93 Aug '09 Hot 100


Mic Check (Nas) Mic Check [CHORUS] One (one) two (two) three (three) Too many rappers and there's still not enough emcees It goes three (three) two (two) one (one) MCA, Adrock, Mike D that's how we get it done like Ladies and gents attention, Nas in the house With Beastie Boys we can turn it out Perpetrators we can point 'em out So if you got somethin' on your mind let it out

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Yo, I been in the game since before you was born I might still be emceein' even after you're gone Strange thought, I know, but my skills still grow The 80's, the 90's, 2000's and so On and on until the crack of dawn Until the year 3000 and beyond Stay up all night and I M.C And Never die, cuz death is the cousin sleep Cuz I'm back with the bang boogie, Oogie oogie Strawberry letter 23 like shuggie Oh my god just look at me, grandpa been rappin' since 83 Oi'm supersonic like J.J. Fad Got crazy ass shit pullin' out the bag Don't forget the tartar sauce, yo cuz it's sad All these crab rappers, they're rappin' like crabs I have carte blanche, the vagabond Nas is a narcissist, my pockets are rotund I'm no killa, but compared to you I'm more realer You ain't a.., a mobster or a drug dealer A slug peeler, you're not, mafioso, no You ain't got the cutthroat in ya, beginner I ain't tryin' to hear your racket You work with police dog, you snitch, you rat, you wear that jacket How many rappers must get dissed Gimme 8 bars and watch me bless this I start to reminisce, when I miss The real hip hop with which I persist, Like Rum in mojitos Bullets in banditos Matzah balls and soup Jackets and Troop Yes Y'all, this is one for the history books Nasty Nas, what's the word, count it off in the hook [repeat CHORUS] Cuz this the type of lyric goes inside your brain To blow you bullshit rappers straight out the frame My lyrics spin' 'round like a hurricane twister So get your hologram on off of Wolf Blitzer Too many rappers to shake a stick at I oughta charge a tax for every weak rap I had to listen to, cuz we be makin' stacks Like Stax records My squad we gotta pack We never coming back To all you crab rappers and hackers And circumventers Souped on splendor (???) I Take the cake, I stole the mold The golden microphone, well that's mine to hold And why all these biters all up in my crotch-space? Sniffin', muffin, huffin' And mean muggin' with a Blimpie Bluffin Back up off me sucka, you ain't sayin' nothin' I'm broader than Broadway, I was in project hallways Dual tape recorder lacin' auditoriums all day I'm just getting started on this beat, this is foreplay And when this song finished, y'all can sing along with this By the way I have a strong fetish For Christian Louboutin' steppers, I hear Russian blondes the wettest But anyway I better pay homage to my fellas And that's what's on my mind, And the rhyme who's next up? Mike D. The man of mystery History in the makin', and now we're takin' Titles, awards, and accolades Scarin' the competition as I sharpen my blades We come together like peanut butter and sandwiches Like pen and paper, like Picasso & canvases Rockin' stadiums and shitty bars Go back in time, send a fax from my car [repeat CHORUS]


Site by: Todd

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