FUGEES - How Many Mics lyrics

rate me

Intro: wyclef jean<br>Pick up your microphones<br>Pick up your microphones<br>Chorus: wyclef/pras<br>How many mics do we rip on the daily<br>Say, me say many money say me say many many many<br>How many mics do we rip on the daily<br>Many money say me say many many many<br>Verse one: lauryn hill<br>I get mad frustrated when I rhyme<br>Thinkin of all them kids that try to do this for all the wrong reasons<br>Season change mad things rearrange<br>But it all stays the same like the love doctor strange<br>I'm tame like the rapper get red like a snapper, when they do that<br>Got your whole block saying true dat<br>If only they knew that, it was you who was irregular<br>Soldier soul for some secular muzac that's whack<br>Plus you use that, loop, over and over<br>Claiming that you got a new style, your atempts are futile, oooh child<br>Your puerile, brain waves are sterile<br>You can't create you just wait to take, my take<br>Laced with malice, hands get callous, from ripping microphones<br>From here to dallas go ask alice if you don't believe me<br>I get innovisions like stevie<br>See me, a sin from the chalice, like the weed be<br>Indeed we like kalid mohammed mc's make me vomit<br>I get controversial, freaky style with no rehearsal<br>Au contraire mon frere, don't you even go there<br>Me without a mike is like a beat without a snare<br>I dare to tear into your ego, we go, way back<br>Like some ganja and palequo or colecovision<br>My minds make incisions in your anatomy<br>And I back this with deuteronomy or leviticus<br>God made this word, you can't get with this<br>Sweet like licorice, dangerous like syphillis, yeah<br>Chorus<br>Verse two: wyclef jean<br>I used to be underrated, now I take iron, makes my shit constipated<br>I'm more concentrated, so on my day off with david sanonburg I play<br>Golf<br>Run through crown heights screaming out mazeltoff!<br>Problem with noman before black I'm first hu-man<br>Appetite to write, like frederick douglass with a slave hand<br>Street pressure, word to papa I ain't going under<br>One day I have a label and make deals with tommy mottola<br>Mama always told me, your one in a million,<br>Always watch our back, never tango with haitian-sicilians<br>Now I got a record deal, how does it feel? <br>I'm never gonna survive unless I get crazy like seal<br>Cause the whole worlds' out a order<br>So at night the feins dance on grease with john travolta<br>One got slaughtered as he caught blood from his mouth<br>The other tried to duck and caught a left with my guinness stout<br>Brother, brother can't you get this through your head<br>It's a setup by the feds, their scoping us with their infrareds<br>Chorus<br>Verse three: prazwell<br>Too many mc's not enough mikes, exit your show like I exit the<br>Turnpike<br>Dice and dynomite like dolomite, double do's been like I don't dick<br>Van dyke<br>Starlight to starbrite the freaks come out at night<br>Like my man wyclef-i wear my sunglasses at night<br>And my ponage with martial encourage<br>Squash the squad and hide their bodies under my garage<br>And when the cops come lookin, I be bookin to brooklyn<br>Beat the trails broken flipping tokens to hoboken<br>A clean getaway like alec baldwin<br>Driving in my fast car playing tracy chapman<br>Chorus<br>Many, many money many many many<br>Many, many money, ha, ha, ha