you say I got no fuckin' time on the mic to play I write rhymes with addition and algebra Mental geometry don't even come at me Talk'n that weak and
King T and Big Ice Chorus: [Ice-T] But T that's trippin' and that ain't my sport I'd rather lamp in my crib and flip the Robb report And set
And I'm in every single slot and you're not, aw I'm the logo on that Dallas Cowboys helmet, a star And I'm not about to sit back and just keep rhymin
Mic check, mic check One, one, two, two, three, three Too many rappers, and there's still not enough emcees It goes three, three, two, two, one, one
that funky little niggaroe Comin back with a brand new cut And you can new jack swing on my nuts Cause I got the shit so tight A young nigga doin damage to the mic
To a top top top, big rigga Check it, check it out, check it out Check it out, check it Check it out, check it out, check it out Check it out, check
Jug and Wesly Snipes, marks wanna test me because I test the mics I check 'em like sound, and like loose I'm down Plus I done got better since Soul
2] [Angie Locc:] Ratchet dancing cross the floor you know the g-way Hollerin uuhh up on the mic with the dj Im with my G`s and my thugs and my essays
Check the scenario I'ma bust your ear drum And leave you heads ringing With the ring-a-ding-dong Busy on the mic Since the day I was what? Born Check
pop my trunk and have you runnin' in your Nike's Look what I just bought, this white mink I got it in New York And this bright link I put it on and
Bentley Now wonder where I'd be without Funk Doc So this toast goes to Redman and hip-hop Whattup Big Unc? Whattup nephew? Whattup Jersey? Check mic one, check mic
on the low like pro And my file is too hi tech to call next I got a heart the size of John Q's son And on the mic, I'm him times two of 'em Y'all n***
muharound motherfucker The way I get wreck y'all niggaz call it mic check I'm vexed and if I got an itchy finger like Bernard Geotz With a pad and a
high can't touch the level so why try? Fall Guy compare me status to fly guy Rough and rugged and brother it takes ten to conquer That's why I'm on probation Ever since
makin' funky music is a must I'm number one Ha ha, check it, check, check, check, here we go, huh huh Aiyyo, throw yo' hands up in the motherfuckin' air And
digital for y'all common street criminals Who wanna come test, lick the sweat from my genitals? We can get off the mic, and get a little physical I was born a rock, since
in the wide body Blazer [Coolio] I shot dice with a preacher and drank yak with a pastor, So I see myself and I know, my own Lord and master, When your
Bill, Bill But I still do the knowledge, let me give you the math I rock a seven and a half for my seven and a half I be with Moses and Kane and Abel
