Lyrics Iron Mic - Add-2

Iron Mic

I see this rap shit as easy, I got it down to a science
Rock 'em like Goliath my verses is killin' giants
This the book of Eli, they pay tons to see it
I raised the bar so high Dhalsim couldn’t reach it
Yo, the weak leave when they see it, I cc’d it
I’m too seasoned, I’m too odd, we ain’t even
What I’m writing niggas be bitin' like babies teething
Or biting like Eve when she eatin' apples in Eden
Yo, restore the madness sure 'nuff, now who the baddest?
You crossed the line, you gon' need more then your border passes
I ain’t never slacking, never happen
You see it in my face until I get more work done than La Toya Jackson
I admit it, I should be admitted into a psych ward
I’m committed, chlamydia sick as given from five whores
Now why he say five?
He looney listen to Luniz «I Got 5 On It» at 5 in the morning
I murder MCs, leave they mothers mourning
Their homies is twisted, liquor pour out for em
I bomb niggas with no warning
Me and 9th just play Jesse and Walter White
We stepping on toes, this shit is like Harlem Nights
My rhyme scheme is mean like a dope fiend lean
Nigga please, your sixteens are sweeter than pralines
I picked the perfect song for the fat lady to sing
Teri, Ace and Hakeem this ain’t the same dream
Something ain’t adding up when you hear the shit that they say y’all
How the hell you a boss, ain’t you got you a day job?
Shit I face mobs, I scar faces like Facemob
So fix your face you niggas looking like Tate Modern art
There’s no equal, on top like a church steeple
Momma’s angel was angry listening to the evils
Don’t stop the music like Yarbrough & Peoples
All eyes on me like 2Pac or a peephole, yo
I poke holes into each and all of your plans
Shadow box with Peter Pan, punchlines will never land
I -- kick it!
-- y’all don’t understand
Nigga I don’t write rhymes, I write some «Got damn!"s
Jamla back, back like we never left
9th gave me a shot I ain’t give the ball back yet
See I will break you apart without me breaking a sweat
Y’all all talk, and ain’t saying shit like the Muppets Chuck
There’s no skill for real to the rhymes they write
But y’all in love with the hype like a crackhead’s wife
See I can give you a clip if you niggas is sound bitin'
You wrote that in five minutes?
No shit, it sounds like it!
But poor me, I’m dope til I OD
These rappers you call the future can’t fuck with the old me
Shake will tell you the same, Chance’ll tell you the same
I was chillin with Common and Nas on the same day
And the year before at New York and The Roots on the same stage
So I don’t care if you sleep, I’ll just wake you up at your wake
Yo, this shit real I been this and I’m still ill
I spit some shit that make Michael J Fox sit still
See I’m not playing -- all bars, not drinking
Straight body -- not planking
I shot niggas and I’m not ratin'
Add-2 all day, everyday and I’m not changing
Nigga