"Grab the Microphone"
Yeah, it's like salutation, greeting
Ladies and gents, good evening
I'm the speaker for the evening
Get up out your chair, throw your hands in the air
Have drinks on me, hit it slow, though
Each to those, well potent
Some particle, compound into one article
The headline read, shall I proceed?
Hell yeah, well let the turntable spin
Like the chrome on the G wag' Benz, let's begin
[Chorus: Masta Killa]
Aiyo, spit that shit, that make niggaz wanna lick they glock
When I grab the microphone, I can't stop
To drop that shit that make you get "ahh"
Down on your face, with your the gun to your --
Ladies in the club, they frontin' like --
My brothers in the club, we try'nna get "ahh"
Look, another smash hit, my niggaz from the boulevard
East New York squad, in the yard gettin' ripped
'Least twenty five a clip, a hundred men stomp in ya face
The wolves barkin', careful, you might get trampled
Caught flashin', wrap him in the masking tape
Jimmy Basking, murder was the case when the crowd break fool
Iron Mic Duel held down by the poolside
Along came a spider, spun spools in a cypher
Screamin' on your mic, leads spray from the sawed off pipe
Stenographer type, the ghetto hype slang, flow gold
Like water off the brim when it rain
Iron Maiden, checkmating, no escaping, we takin' it
So terrorfyin', so electrifyin'
Ya'll niggaz can't deny, it's so death defyin'
Also, unique, it's so much heat
On the turntable wax, when I speak on the beat
One-two, throw it up, like you came to gave it up
Drop something in the collection cup, for the cause
Of the sixteen bars, fast cars and jewelry
Fine silk, Cantanose wine make the rhyme shine
Bright on the seven continent
Take it to the fullest extent
Go anywhere, and live
Yeah, P. Diddy, I know you dancin'
Crowd still movin', ladies groovin'
When the God show and provin'
[Outro: Masta Killa]
Shit went something like that, I can't remember how that go..
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