[Intro]
Call this a test?
Lets see who's the sharpest tool in the shed
Call this a test?
Huh

[Verse 1: Mic Righteous]
Hey yo I used to be a pebble held in the hand of an African
Part of the first tribe that carved artistic patterns
On a rock of flint, they grate my solid skin against the cave wall
These are my roots, now your youth use me at play-school
I've writ tales, been held, by a slave in Israel
Felt the sweat on their palm, wet my thick shell
I put the pictures on the pyramids
Painted on papyrus with heiroglyphics I'm what the Egyptians they wrote the scriptures with
When evolution took place, my ancestors grew wings
Tall white feathers and you dip their head in blue ink
I write for Mozart he held me tight for rap music
We produced a beautiful picture of passion that was moving
Deep symphonies, without me, there'd be no history
I'm seen in literacy I seal the deals, I wrote the rules, I mean literally
You're tears are into me
I'm a rappers best friend but I can be your worst enemy
When you sign the deal for devil jam you done sold your soul to the industry
What you consider a real MC, I give them the ability
Take the words from out their mouths and put it on the paper lyrically
I work for vivid imagery ain't no one as sick as me
The missing piece, to your rhyme pad
I've been held in Hitler's right hand
His stone cold eyes cried when he wrote Mein Kampf
I sealed the deal handing over the Rhineland
Take me in your hand you'll have to guide me like a blind man
I wrote the government's secret book of society, if I could speak
I'd expose the truth behind the lies, the fiends
I even know every secret you're keeping in your diary
Your tears are inside of me so lead the way and write with me
I was born in a factory, with all of my family
From there we're seperated into the hands of humanity
I could be in the bottom of a poltician's pocket
The paper is my partner, without it I'm nothing
I've been held by great leaders and freedom fighters and righteous men
A prophet came with his teachings and then I write from right to left
The author of the Quran, the holy book of Islam
Before you read it pour water
On your forearm
But the Psalms in the Bible
Still I find myself in the hands of a grown man with no plans signing a Giro
I cry when I write poems, Microsoft is knocking me
Everybodys got a laptop, what you've forgotten me!?
I give a poor man property money to live properly
You turn your back on me, you win the lottery because of me
I wrote a letter for a kid that never could spell
Who's brothers in a cell, waiting for in letter in jail
I write the will when you inherit the wealth
I write the details on every cheque you get in the mail
I wrote the final words of a man that had nothing so he deaded himself
Before he done it he wrote a letter he left on the shelf
The neighbours phoned the council told them about an unbearable smell
And when the council went in the house the neighbours went in as well
They found him hanging from the bannister his head had gone pale
They read the letter and it said 'why didn't anyone help?'
I've told you, over and over I ain't mentally well
And I'd rather exist in hell than live in this terrible world
You see me, I writ the tales of a thousands fools
Cause I'm the pen, the world's most powerful tool