[1996]
How many mics
Pick up your microphones,
Pick up your microphones!
How many mics do we rip on the daily?
Say me, say many money,
say me, say many, many, many.
How many mics do we rip on the daily?
Many money, say me, say many,
many, many.
I get mad frustrated when I rhyme
Thinkin of all them kids that
try to do this for all the wrong reasons.
Season change mad things
rearrange
But it all stays the same like the love,
doctor strange.
I'm tame like
the rapper get red like a snapper,
when they do that
Got your whole block saying
true dat
If only they knew that, it was you who was
irregular Soldier soul for
some secular muzac.
that's whack
Plus you use that, loop, over and over
Claiming that you got a new style,
your attempts are futile,
oh child Your puerile,
brain waves are sterile.
You can't create,
you just wait to take,
my take Laced with malice,
hands get callous
from ripping microphones.
From here to Dallas
go ask Alice if you don't believe me,
I get innovisions like Stevie
See me, a sin from the chalice,
like the weed be,
Indeed we like Kalid Mohammed,
MC's make me vomit
I get controversial, freaky style with no
rehearsal
Au contraire mon frere, don't you even go there
Me without a mike is like a beat without a snare
I dare to tear into your ego, we go, way back
Like some ganja and palequo or ColecoVision
My minds make incisions in your anatomy
And I back this with Deuteronomy or Leviticus
God made this word, you can't get with this
Sweet like licorice, dangerous like syphillis,
yeah
Chorus
Verse Two: Wyclef Jean
I used to be underrated, now I take iron, makes
my shit constipated I'm more concentrated, so on
my day off with David Sanonburg I play golf Run
through Crown Heights screaming out "Mazeltoff!"
Problem with noman before black I'm first hu-man
Appetite to write, like Frederick Douglass with a
slave hand Street pressure, word to papa I ain't
going under One day I have a label and make deals
with Tommy Mottola Mama always told me, "Your one
in a million, Always watch our back, never tango
with haitian-sicilians" Now I got a record deal,
how does it feel? I'm never gonna survive unless
I get crazy like Seal Cause the whole worlds' out
a order So at night the feins dance on grease
with John Travolta One got slaughtered as he
caught blood from his mouth The other tried to
duck and caught a left with my Guinness stout
Brother, brother can't you get this through your
head It's a setup by the feds, their scoping us
with their infrareds
Chorus
Verse Three: Prazwell
Too many MC's not enough mikes, exit your show
like I exit the turnpike Dice and dynomite like
Dolomite, double do's been like I don't Dick Van
Dyke Starlight to starbrite the freaks come out
at night Like my man Wyclef-"I wear my sunglasses
at night" And my ponage with martial encourage
Squash the squad and hide their bodies under my
garage And when the cops come lookin, I be bookin
to Brooklyn Beat the trails broken flipping
tokens to Hoboken A clean Getaway like Alec
Baldwin Driving in my fast car playing Tracy
Chapman
Chorus
Many, many money many many many
Many, many money, ha, ha, ha
