Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song 3 MC's , by - Bush BabeesRelease date: 14.10.1996
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
3 MC's |
| Hey yo, MC am I |
| People call me Man |
| I’m everywhere like air, so watch as I expand |
| Live and direct from out the Flatbush lands |
| 'Cause I got more rhymes than the beach got sand |
| (Lee Majors) |
| (who you be son?) |
| Well yo MC am I; people call me «L» |
| Can’t forget the double-e Major I rock well |
| In '86 used to sport Pumas wit' Gazelles |
| '96: Yo, I just rock mics and excel |
| (Q-Tip) |
| Hey yo, MC a b people call me air |
| See me on Jamaica Ave. sippin' half-and-half |
| I got a special-issued mic that’s guaranteed steel |
| Bustin' rhymes at the crowd to make the shorties feel |
| (All) |
| (Bust it, bust it, bust it, bust it) |
| It’s the 3 MCs |
| You know we hold these mics tight |
| We the 3 MCs |
| We do it right e' night |
| With a scratch |
| And a cut |
| We 'bout to tear shit up |
| (Mr. Man) |
| See most of y’all really do not know how you should operate |
| You need to contemplate 'cause you really cannot stop the wait |
| Just cooperate |
| Let me select the path |
| You do not know the half simply 'cause you don’t know the math |
| On how to automate the graph |
| So follow the leader |
| The 9-Ether--rapper's get split like amoeba |
| By the fire-breather |
| Get burned beyond recognition |
| It’s Mr. Man the accurate be blurrin' up your vision |
| (Lee Majors) |
| I pack a .45 caliber hollow-tipped pen |
| Make 'em say «What happen when he be rappin'?» |
| Make a move son. I kill bystanders and all |
| Check the autops' the words that I dropped in his skull |
| If you want a nigga draw, pull out your best rhymes |
| Make your same gun-finger turn into peace sign |
| Came back with tips swallowed |
| Hip-hop Puritan show these niggas how you drop it |
| (Q-Tip) |
| We 'bout to drop it like the Pharcyde or Reggie Miller |
| Camouflage on--rescuin' rap guerilla |
| Tricklin' down: verb, noun cascade |
| Precious as jade, never heard the word 'fade' |
| Positive vibes is way too influential |
| Wack rhyme sayers need to keep it confidential |
| Kick it up like tornadoes |
| Trash cats get tomatoed |
| Beat you like Bruno |
| Watch yo' eye get the tape |
| It was a Friday night |
| And no moves was bein' fakin' |
| And the people was breakin' |
| And the house was shakin' |
| And it won’t be long 'til e’body knowin' |
| That the 3 MCs was on the mic |
| (Mr. Man) |
| Check me out, boy, in high-speed or slo'-mo' |
| Came down to Earth to rock this ill promo' |
| Never sound wack on tape, 'cause that’s a no-no |
| So turn me up loud |
| And put the needle to the |
| (Lee Majors) |
| With all of these |
| Pimps, players, mafiosos, and G’s |
| Make me wonder «Is there any room for just a MC?» |
| Same shit, different beat; can’t take it no more |
| You and your man bought the same rhyme from the same store |
| (Q-Tip) |
| You bought it from the same store |
| and kicked the rhyme until your throat’s sore |
| Now we got to up the ante much, much more |
| Allah put us all here for a reason |
| We 'bout to change the seasons |
| From these three you’ll never smell treason |
| (Mr. Man) |
| If you don’t get it now, I guarantee you’ll get it later |
| I make the planet bounce from the poles to the equator |
| Peninsulas, every island, and the continents |
| I grab the mic and add flavor like condiments |
| (All) |
| 'Cause we the 3 MCs |
| Y’all know we hold these mics tight |
| Yo, we the 3 MCs |
| We keep it right all night |