| Miggity microphone master, funky rhyme maker
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| Miggity microphone master, and we the niggas making paper
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| Miggity microphone master, yeah about to get live
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| Striggity straight from the sewer and the 41st side
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| Verse One: Prodigy
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| The Infamous Mobb and Das now listen
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| Stick you for the only pot you got to piss in
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| Rapping school, keep the key in the ignition
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| When we get back nigga, we shine and glisten
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| Your seven do his thing with percision
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| No time for broke living, I’m trying to see addition
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| Food to fill my kitchen
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| So faggot kids snitch and give info, do a drive by in a stolen black Pinto
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| With tinted windows, bullets will flury through your system
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| Your man ran, lucky for him because we missed him
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| We catch him on the rebound but see now
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| We trying to get this money and you trying to stop me
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| What’s it gonna be now?
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| You stand up to my crew and get laid down
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| On the ground with the big four pound, he hear the sound
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| On the other side of town, where caps get peeled
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| Break you off love love, give you something to feel
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| Das Efx, Mobb Deep, niggas holding it down
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| Runnin' fiction-ass MC’s yonder-bound
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| Eager to please rap niggas get back smacked with pist-als
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| Forced to exile, back in the Nile
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| Verse Two: Dray
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| Well now ease up selector, I bring it on again
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| This is for all my niggas doing time up in the fucking pen
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| How y’all been? |
| I can’t forget my niggas who got left back, F that
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| And all my honeys chilling out in Lefrak
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| Sent this, we gets busy with no followers
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| Stomp you then you throw the towel up, make you roll the Owl up
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| Niggas mount up, it’s the Infamous with the Sewer
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| Go to Queens and get my weed for one cent and got a brew, uh
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| Check one two ah, blew ya, out the box like Stella
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| Coming from the under with the thunder like Shelly
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| Really, we coming deep just like the Mobb
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| Nigga, rhyming is my job but you can wind up getting robbed
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| Anyway, in a day, or night it don’t matter
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| It’s me, that nigga P, Havoc and the Jibba Jabba-
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| Jaw, we bring it raw without a doubt
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| It’s the Infamous and Das Efx here to turn it out
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| Verse Three: Havoc
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| Ayo what you gonna do with that black deuce deuce?
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| Hit you up, take the cash, you ain’t slug-proof, duke
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| Taking yours to survive, it’s all a matter of time
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| I’m snatching, living grimey, running never look back
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| The root of evil got me acting like that
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| Life ain’t a game, the streets is mortal combat
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| I wasn’t blessed with the silver spoon
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| Since my born I was doomed, confined to one room
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| Now you’s a customer, copping for natural born hustlers
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| That’s what he thought, son, stupid kid you get extorted
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| Stop smiling, be still don’t nothing move but the money
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| The Infamous gat clappers and mic masters
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| Verse Four: Scoob
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| Well fuck around and I’m a higgity hit ya with hickory diculous
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| Sick a niggas style, twisted off the liquor, bitch
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| I’ll figure it’s the Books, iggity off the hook
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| Holding shit down son, we keeping niggas shook, look
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| I got it made like Florence, fatigue garments
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| My man slipped up and got bagged for three warrants
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| Oh my God, the squiggity squad in the place
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| With the Mobb, niggas can get robbed like Base
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| Taste the terror for the leather in the Beemer
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| The Olde E abuser, can’t fuck with Zima
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| The non-pop singer from the land of rock slingers
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| Where shit is hot and gunsmoke from niggas Glocks lingers
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| I rip shit for fun so come one come all
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| MC’s will get mad, burned like Jamal
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| Live in my television from the cellar to the attic
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| It’s the Books, Krayz Drayz, Prodigy, and fucking Havoc and it don’t stop |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Microphone Master , by - Das EFX. Song from the album The Very Best Of Das EFX, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп