Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Open Mic Night Remix (Feat. Wordsworth & Thirstin Howell III), artist - The High & Mighty
Date of issue: 23.08.1999
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Open Mic Night Remix (Feat. Wordsworth & Thirstin Howell III) |
This is a remix… this is a remix |
«A-a-a-at-at night the open mic be invitin me to rhyme» ---] Rakim |
High & Mighty, Wordsworth, Alkemist, Mr. Eon, wreckin shit |
«A-a-a-at-at night the open mic be invitin me to rhyme» |
Mr. E-O-N must be talkin bout me |
(Who dat?) The one and only High & Mighty MC |
Who be perpendicular when I be dickin ya |
E smoke a bone the size of a fibula |
Prepare for the slaughter, the lyrical marauder |
Unfreakable acts like me and your daughter, did |
I be coughin layin in the coffin |
Step out the fantasy world you be lost in |
Dead man walkin, engage you hawkin |
]From Pensauken to Vienna |
I be me and a slew to combat your crew |
With acrobatics only seen in cartoons |
Like the Go-ad Rucker, double-pumped ya |
Puncture, vocally rupture, puff a cluster |
Ambidextrious, both sides test this |
Removin wackness like asbestos |
«A-at night, the open mic be invitin me to rhyme» |
«The open mic… the open mic… at night the open mic be |
Invitin me to rhyme» |
«Open m-mic, I bring out that box to the shit.» |
«At night, the open mic be invitn me to rhyme… |
The open mic-mic-m-m-mic be inv. |
itin me to r-rh-hyme» |
«Open mic, I bring out that box to the shit» |
Yo check it out, yo; |
From prenatal to cradle and able to print |
I’m so deep that dirt’s at my naval, my table’s cement |
You audio/video vaginal, lines imagine a magnitudes |
That give longitude and latitude some attitudes |
]From an environment, freestyle’s a requirment |
I bought every album, then my parents had to hide the rent |
If my demise commence unexpectantly, just test my pee |
I bet you see ecstasy or some obscenity inject in me (what else?) |
I flood your airways, place planes in jeopardy |
Flights vanish, panick deputies, inspect the sea for jet debris |
Let it be, and commence the record to play |
I’m so ahead of my time when I talk there’s a seven second delay |
Don’t judge a book by its cover when I’m inventin |
I add your colon to my sentence, and start to pluck off on your appendix |
Dexterity hurled is about to rally the world |
You can’t write without using like, what are you some type of valley girl? |
At open mics, I’m tellin y’all one last time |
Stop askin for a capellas and then kickin those wach rhymes, flatline |
What, yo-yo-yo |
«A-a-a-a-a-at-a-at night the open mic be invitin me to rhyme |
.the open m… mic be invitin me to r-r…rhyme» |
«Open mic… I bring out that box to the shit» |
I’m accustomed to abiding by freestyle penal code |
My rhymes are like long drives going down a scenic road |
Taught discipline through paragraphs, walk backstreets and narrow paths |
My kicks look dirty and pants sag like I have no ass! |
Flippin styles that’d pioneered in the Space Age |
Writin your first paragraph, I’m already on my eighth page |
For the way you write your rhymes, I could tell you never really made grades |
Going through life miserable, hatin yourself on payday |
A pleasant plea, Thirstin in parentheses |
I heard a mute man mention me to a blind woman on Vescey Street |
Urged to leave gats alone in memory of Pumpkin and Faster Poem |
Wouldn’t want my moms to identify me with half the dome! |
A toast, with high price gangrere |
Battle the best motherfuckers and whoever they bring here |
Long term, sought through rations |
I even put freestyle under special skills when submitting application |
Flows, that can’t be followed by asthma patients |
Got a deathwish? |
Here’s his extension, ask for Satan |
The rap languages me and more, findin subjects in Singapore |
Impressin MC’s who swore to God they’d seen it all |
«The open mic be invitin me to rhyme» |
«…The open mic… the open mic be invitin me to rhyme» |
«Open mic I bring out that box to the shit» |