[Intro: Royce da 5'9", Sample]
The mic, the microphone (Yeah)
The mic, the microphone (Yeah)
The mic, the microphone
The mic, the microphone

[Verse 1: Royce da 5'9"]
Too many Indians and no Chiefs
I pull out the pistol when I pre-mote peace
I'm the blueprint, I have your clothes
Lookin' like they was designed by bullet holes and shoe prints
When I bless a joint, it's like Spock
Came up in the spot and grabbed the beat by the pressure point
I got the Vulcan touch, I tell my bitch I'ma
Give up drinkin' when she give her emotions up
Too many enemies and no killers
Too many that hate snitchin' but know squealers
I get stacks (Stacks)
I blam hard with the click-clack, with that Antarctica wrist-wrap
I spit crack for y'all n***as to get dope
Y'all gotta wait for the Transporter to get back
So who's the illest? What you talkin' 'bout?
Die Hard like you Bruce or Willis when I shoot to kill it
Too many hood guys, not enough good guys
The way you say pussy in plural is pus-sy
[Chorus: Royce da 5'9"]
I don't be fuckin' around on that microphone
When I'm kickin' them flows on that microphone
The illest n***a that's holdin' that microphone
I put my heart and my soul in that microphone
I put it down on that (Microphone)
Turn up the motherfuckin' sound on that microphone

[Verse 2: Crooked I]
But turn it down if you weak on that microphone
Lame n***as shouldn't speak on that microphone
My ultrasounds show me holdin' a microphone
That's on my momma, I was born with a microphone
Groupies love Crooked I on the microphone
Like James Brown, I'ma die on the microphone
Too many rappers need to leave this mic alone
They on the same bullshit that Mike was on
You're lookin' at the unseen, listenin' to the unheard
I kill your career with one word — Slaughterhouse
You're verbally flirtin' with murder, you got some nerve
I lift your skirt like a young perv — knock 'em out
We the mob, homie who need a job
Plus I'm so fly tell Derek Fisher I need a lob
Too many in this industry I need to rob
And if eatin' n***as made you obese, I be the Blob
Fuck props, n***a this a different conquest
Listeners hear me spit and think it's a pissin' contest
I'm in it for power, if cowards try to stop me
They better off usin' a fishin' pole to reel in the Loch Ness (Yes!)
I got a barrel that'll spot wussies
If you are what you eat, how come I'm not pussy?
[Chorus: Joell Ortiz]
You lil' n***as better come off that microphone
I'm educated but I'm dumb on that microphone
Don't even bother, you'll be done on that microphone
I'll turn a father to a son on that microphone
I'm a revolver in the slum on that microphone
And tell the Source I don't need no microphone

[Verse 3: Joell Ortiz]
Too many critics tend to be silly
Too many frogs go ribbit but never leave lillies
I get it poppin' like a nine milli
Now I'm havin' a whale of a good time, I'm a Free Willy
Y'all lip singers take a pic, click, cheese really
Fans, who their man, I'm they quick pick easily
None of you kids spit evenly
You body my verse is like a thick bitch leavin' me (Ha-ha)
Too many fantasies and no fame
Too many claimin' insanity and they so sane
Less than whack Scooby Snack lack flow game
Rappers everything I do be that crack cocaine
Your career is doobie wraps, slap Joe name
In any one of them verses, say hello to the hearses
Too many monkey see, monkey doers
I slaughter pigs on my tail like Punky Brewster
[Chorus: Joe Budden]
N***as know I get it in on that microphone
Y'all don't know where to begin on that microphone
I don't see how y'all could win on that microphone
A pioneer, I set trends on that microphone
Decide who you wan' be on that microphone
I see a bunch of lil' me's, micro clones

[Verse 4: Joe Budden]
Too many 20 milligram Vics I'm on
Killed the web, it don't matter what site you on
Say his mouth always runnin' off
I tell 'em bridge or tunnel, give a fuck how I come across
All these wannabe tough guys, son is soft
Gun go off, havin' like a good show, just spun 'em off
Treat old-timers like fags who drop the soap
They mic got Alzheimer's, forgot that they was dope
Too many dogs, not enough barkin' yet
Too many blueprints, not enough architects
Rhyme ain't started yet, still, every bar's a mess
Fuck record sales or who the machine markets best
I'm the last mothafucka that y'all should test
I'm the sharpshooter, you the n***a I target next
Too many frontin' like y'all that fly
Reaching, 'cause we set the bar that high

[Outro: Royce Da 5'9", Crooked I, Joell Ortiz & Joe Budden]
"I don't be fuckin around on that microphone"
"You lame n***as shouldn't speak on that microphone"
"You lil' n***as need to come off that microphone"
"N***as know I get it in on that microphone"