Mic Masters

Intro

"L.A. Is a third world city. We are a third world city

For much of what exists. And if you don't claim your children

The streets and gangs will raise them"



"Epidemic. The type of cats that you n***as don't wanna rhyme after

We let the mental chrome blast ya

So when i ask ya, you better answer who's the microphone master"



Chorus

Yo we the microphone masters, abusing mics with lyrics

That might just blow past ya, we're super rhyme makers

Yo we're like the soul snatchers, my crew gets trife

My n***a we microphone masters, my views defy nature



Eyo we microphone masters, abusing mics with lyrics

That might just blow past ya, we're super rhyme makers

We're like the soul snatchers, my crew gets trife

My n***a we microphone masters, my views defy nature



Verse 1 (Hex One)

Eyo these times plague us. But why react with fear to see it trap me in?

When crime rates get raised the stats you hear could teach the fact we sin

For high wages. The path is clear for seeds that have to live where

Sky scrapers graze the atmosphere beneath its abdomen

This rhyme's dangerous. The thesis that releases pathogens

In beats is back to sting the track again, word up

Proceed to grab the pen and write raps as nights pass described as

Light jabs that hit the pad like knife stabs for price tags

This cold city is known really for trife cats and rude folks

Who roam freely with no pity for blue coats. Some roll gritty and do dope

This bold theory I wrote clearly and drew notes

For broke willies that smoke nearly the whole philly in two tokes

For those wit me i spew quotes for you, at an acute dose

And through growth you prove close to crew. No matter what dudes boast

It's true yo. So let it sink in, whenever these inks blend it links with

What a n***a was thinking, so view this glucose induced post

Dramatic stress. The most erratic text, the adept addict at his best

So who grossed the fattest checks? You better add its debts, recoup doe

And grab the rest. My clan is next to snag whats left. I'm through tho

(Word up son)



Chorus



Verse 2 (Tek-nition)

Verbal burst with metal projectiles. Serve you first with several perfect

Styles, rebels and exiles, curses worse than devils and reptiles

Murderous stepchild who dissects through medical x-files

Search and get stretched out in a hearse with elegant textiles

Crevices death piles reaches the masses. The reaper's in action

Either relax or else the heat turn your features to ashes

From ashes to ash and dust to dust, from dusk 'til its dawn

They act what they rap and acting tough and bluff on their songs

They act like I can't devour boulders (What's up) My trial a disorder

Like rigor mordis bars are broader than Dwight Howard's shoulders

Cowards posing like they be bosses man this shit is preposterous

Really obnoxious whenever these n***as be flossing posing with

Gritty responses. My delivery: monstrous, enemies: cautious

Energy: off the richter scale these victims fell I'm sending

Them off into the grips of hell (well) my n***as rolling with me

The gun-shine state, still known as the coldest city (n***a, what?)



"True master makers of this rhyme shit, microphone user

Microphone master, super rhyme maker"



Chorus



"The flavor misbehavior from the super duper…"