Testi musica canzoni

featuring Thirstin Howl III, Wordsworth

[Mr. Eon]
This is a remix...this is a remix
"A-a-a-at-at night the open mic be invitin me to rhyme" --- Rakim
High & Mighty, Wordsworth, Alkemist, Mr. Eon, wreckin shit
"A-a-a-at-at night the open mic be invitin me to rhyme"
Mr. E-O-N must be talkin bout me
(Who dat?) The one and only High & Mighty MC
Who be perpendicular when I be dickin ya
E smoke a bone the size of a fibula
Prepare for the slaughter, the lyrical marauder
Unfreakable acts like me and your daughter, did
I be coughin layin in the coffin
Step out the fantasy world you be lost in
Dead man walkin, engage you hawkin
From Pensauken to Vienna
I be me and a slew to combat your crew
With acrobatics only seen in cartoons
Like the Go-ad Rucker, double-pumped ya
Puncture, vocally rupture, puff a cluster
Ambidextrious, both sides test this
Removin wackness like asbestos

"A-at night, the open mic be invitin me to rhyme"
"The open mic...the open mic...at night the open mic be
invitin me to rhyme"
"Open m-mic, I bring out that box to the shit."
"At night, the open mic be invitn me to rhyme...
the open mic-mic-m-m-mic be inv..itin me to r-rh-hyme"
"Open mic, I bring out that box to the shit"

[Wordsworth]
Yo check it out, yo; From cranadle to cradle and able to print
I'm so deep that dirt's at my naval, my table submit
You audio/video vaginal, lines imagine a magnitudes
That give longitude and latitude some attitudes
From an environment, freestyle's a requirment
Upon every album, that my parents had to hide the rent
If my demise commence unexpectantly, just test my pee
I bet you see ecstasy or some obscenity inject in me (what else?)
I flood your airways, place planes in jeopardy
Flights vanish, panick deputies, expectancy for jet debris
Let it be, and commence the record to play
I'm so ahead of my time when I talk there's a seven second delay
Don't judge a book by its cover when I'm inventin
I add your colon to my sentence, and start to pluck off on your appendix
Dexterity hurled is about to rally the world
You can't write without using like, what are you some type of valley girl?
At open mics, I'm tellin y'all one last time
Stop askin for a capellas and then kickin those wach rhymes, flatline
what, yo-yo-yo

"A-a-a-a-a-at-a-at night the open mic be invitin me to rhyme
..the open m...mic be invitin me to r-r...rhyme"
"Open mic...I bring out that box to the shit"

[Thirstin Howl III]
I'm accustomed to abiding by freestyle penal code
My rhymes are like long drives going down a scenic road
Taught discipline through paragraphs, walk backstreets and narrow paths
My kicks look dirty and pants sag like I have no ass!
Flippin styles that'd pioneered in the Space Age
Writin your first paragraph, I'm already on my eighth page
For the way you write your rhymes, I could tell you never really made grades
Going through life miserable, hatin yourself on payday
A pleasant plea, Thirstin in parentheses
I heard a mute man mention me to a blind woman on Vescey Street
Urged to leave gats alone in memory of Pumpkin and Faster Poem
Wouldn't want my moms to identify me with half the dome!
A toast, with high price gangrere
Battle the best motherfuckers and whoever they bring here
Long term, sought through rations
I even put freestyle under special skills when submitting application
Flows, that can't be followed by asthma patients
Got a deathwish? Here's his extension, ask for Satan
The rap languages me and more, findin subjects in Singapore
Impressin MC's who swore to God they'd seen it all

"The open mic be invitin me to rhyme"
"...The open mic...the open mic be invitin me to rhyme"
"Open mic I bring out that box to the shit"
*scratched out by DJ Mighty Mi