Lyrics Mic Line - MF DOOM, MF Grimm

Mic Line

Geedorah write a rhyme in the time he hollow out a flask
Cracked a Guinness Stout with his teeth one time, swallowed the glass
A pain in the ass, to say the least
He came with many new techniques to slay the beast
While simultaneously saving the streets
Bombing and calming the savage with above-average beats
Get the cabbage in the most lavish suites
Consummate marriages in between the middle of sheets
Provider of the vittles eats, trying to be the illest
Dad a kid’ll meet for the love of patter of little feets
It kind of gets you right here, don’t it?
Mess with mine, your life’ll be a nightmare, won’t it?
Left the 9 at home, I hope my lady don’t pawn it
Doggone it, it ain’t even got no serial number on it
For God’s sakes, spare the god the heartache
Mentally scar a smart snake before he start to fake
They love to hate him, on a certain level, need him
Geedorah known to make a deal with the Devil and beat him
Then proceed to sip a shot of vodka like methadone
The mic said to the headphone, «We just want to be left alone
So we can get it on to an unknown metronome»"
Don’t worry: will he get to zone?
Crews best to get their chrome
Pay your overdue dues to King Geedorah, better known
Getting grown, trying to get on the mic—instead, it’s blown
Too many freaks, not enough circuses
Only a true geek could peep how much work this is
So put that in your blunt hole and puff it
Stunts at the gun so y’all might as well stuff it
Or can it, abandon ship.
I’ll miss y’all
And if they insist, beat ‘em all like fistball
The news watch never stops
From the city it mocks, «Who that on the idiot box?»
«Well if it ain’t Geedorah, alert the media
Maker of the beats that’s a real hurt-feeder
Sometimes he come through to let you know he see ya
Don’t let him have to call Smog to head-to-toe graffiti ya»
Just flew in from Dallas, and, boy, is my talons calloused
And what’s a girl like you doing here amongst the island’s foulest?
A cat in Wonderland who found Alice
Gee her with the flows by the gallon or the chalice
Everybody wilding out, trying to be the wildest
And refuse to acknowledge why this shit is so childish
«One, two, one, two» play.
I wonder what they do today
Besides repeat their choruses more times than Confucius say
And start too many songs with «Uh» or «Uhhh»
Yeah, I hear you, soldier.
I told ya like, «No duh!»
It’s King Geedorah, the no-ass-getter
Still qualify as a world-class spitter
Shift to shitter, write a rhyme in the nighttime
Make a beat taste like wine like I spiked mine
And I heard it through the mic line
That crews don’t even write rhymes, and I
Hope that they get much better.
Yes, I
Doo-ooo-ooo-ooo
I pledge that, every day I rep
Know the ledge from every step, and I
Hope that they do get better.
Yes, I
Doo-ooo-ooo-ooo
Geedorah known to stack flows back-to-back-
-to-back flows like, «And now back to our show»
In other news, people had enough of them
Other crews, up their dues, snuff a fews, cut a fuse
Tape must be finished.
Now what?