Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Open the Mic , by - Louis Logic. Song from the album Alcohol/Ism, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 08.11.2004
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Brick
Song language: English
Open the Mic |
| Yeah, uh, yo |
| Let me spark this |
| I’m already wound up |
| Lets burn it from the ground up |
| Turn the fuckin' sound up |
| Allow drunks spittin' on this underground cut |
| Come around |
| It’s goin' down like the town slut |
| Keep your mouth shut |
| I’m quick to set it |
| Kid forgot it |
| I get gas then piss unleaded |
| Your shits pathetic |
| Slip before your wigs beheaded |
| Disconnected and ripped apart like a Christmas present |
| Flip this record |
| We can battle on the instrumental |
| Battle to a quicker tempo |
| Battle with a pen and pencil |
| Your girls digits in my pocket |
| That’s coincidental |
| But if they had a pimp Olympics I would win a medal |
| I’ve been a rebel for the most of my life |
| I go to your show with a knife, start provoking a fight |
| Jump on stage just when the moment is right |
| And scream «open the mic» |
| Your opponent gets sliced |
| Out the mouth comes fire |
| Who ignite the fullest? |
| Celph Titled feed you lead, make you bite the bullet |
| Talk imaginary crime stories and get dealt shots |
| Surprise you with the Kalico and get shell shocked |
| And Hells hot |
| You don’t wanna get caught there |
| When it’s warfare we suit up and carry fours in pairs |
| I’ll rob a bitch a too |
| Snatch her purse with the quickness |
| Not Jamaican but I love to jerk chickens |
| Niggas disrespect I never keep it on wax |
| We load up the vans |
| With soldiers and fully loaded macs |
| Crashing threw the windows of your crib |
| Blastin' shots |
| Wearing Navy Seal suits to look like astronauts |
| Don’t give a fuck about rap |
| You talking thug shit |
| Drain your bodily fluids |
| Now you lack substance |
| Whether east or west |
| You bring beef round here |
| I’ll launch a missile to your city till the coast is clear |
| Ayo you feeling me? |
| Well get your mittens out my trousers |
| Or we’ll deal a beating out like a clique of rowdy bouncers |
| You sit around announcers, got nothing to say |
| Like your girl when I’m standing up and fucking her face |
| Shit |
| We take shots like they don’t effect us |
| With more rounds of quarters than bankers and pay phone collectors |
| I slip licks with thick chicks and stay so erected |
| As if my dick fits in a slick slip like Lego connectors |
| Hey don’t forgot this |
| Jay Love & Celph |
| And J-Zone spit heat like they come from Hell |
| When I’m pissy I can dump as well |
| When I’m not, I’m just pissed off |
| So your two choices are lump or swell |
| Chicks tell me I’m something else, the way I eat snatch |
| In a pair of cushion knee pads and safety mats |
| And lately that’s been the reasons they hate me rappin' |
| Cause my dick disappears in your chicks mouth like baby aspirin |
| Y’all say Zone is a one trick pony (and he talks about is hoes) |
| I say Zone got a long dick, blow me (mothafucka) |
| The more y’all hate, the more the money come |
| I ain’t been unanimous loved since I was 21 with Music For Tu Madre |
| My first LP? |
| All that critical acclaim? |
| Shit, I was up in Starbucks and couldn’t afford a latte |
| But now I talk trash and bring Hell to the people |
| You’re not a broad or a bank teller… I don’t want to see you |
| Too cheap to go clubbin' (yep) |
| Too ugly to model (uh huh) |
| Too broke to drink Cris, but I’ll front with the bottle |
| J-Zone give a dime to record (what?!) |
| Bitch please, rich or poor, y’all ain’t worthy to wash my drawers |
| ARC on the beat (Record Collector) |
| I, Couple and Celph use your bathroom and pee on the seat |
| And fuck a holistic hoe |
| I’d rather have a hoe with lipstick blow on my balls like a piccolo |
| Now hold up |
| You can’t have a jam without the engineer man |
| It’s double J. Brown in this bitch, jeah! |
| I, get into your psyche, don’t care if you like me |
| You pussy, even your lesbo flow is so dykey |
| Check the level, dump the treble that’s the phat G sound |
| The devil’s on a whole new level when we roll through your town |
| Cause it’s the O double D, C-O-U-P-L-E |
| With J.B. on this banger, courtesy of A. V |
| It’s hot shit |
| Ooooh, don’t say you is when it isn’t |
| Like jerkin' off with your left hand, our shit just feels different |
| And +Por Que+ you wanna act like you got that pimp shit |
| Sin-A-Matic heads know that my posse makes hits |
| I heard you thinkin' drinkin' is some shit that we say |
| But best believe I leave? |
| drippin' with Grand monyay |
| Hip hop horray |
| It’s the end for you clowns |
| And leave your hoe to standing up |
| You sit the fuck back down |