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epidemic - mic masters كلمات الأغنية

intro
“l.a. is a third world city. we are a third world city
for much of what exists. and if you don’t claim your children
the streets and gangs will raise them”

“epidemic. the type of cats that you n-ggas don’t wanna rhyme after
we let the mental chrome blast ya
so when i ask ya, you better answer who’s the microphone master”

chorus
yo we the microphone masters, abusing mics with lyrics
that might just blow past ya, we’re super rhyme makers
yo we’re like the soul sn-tchers, my crew gets trife
my n-gga we microphone masters, my views defy nature

eyo we microphone masters, abusing mics with lyrics
that might just blow past ya, we’re super rhyme makers
we’re like the soul sn-tchers, my crew gets trife
my n-gga we microphone masters, my views defy nature

verse 1 (hex one)
eyo these times plague us. but why react with fear to see it trap me in?
when crime rates get raised the stats you hear could teach the fact we sin
for high wages. the path is clear for seeds that have to live where
sky scr-pers graze the atmosphere beneath its abdomen
this rhyme’s dangerous. the thesis that releases pathogens
in beats is back to sting the track again, word up
proceed to grab the pen and write raps as nights p-ss described as
light jabs that hit the pad like knife stabs for price tags
this cold city is known really for trife cats and rude folks
who roam freely with no pity for blue coats. some roll gritty and do dope
this bold theory i wrote clearly and drew notes
for broke w-ll–s that smoke nearly the whole philly in two tokes
for those wit me i spew quotes for you, at an acute dose
and through growth you prove close to crew. no matter what dudes boast
it’s true yo. so let it sink in, whenever these inks blend it links with
what a n-gga was thinking, so view this glucose induced post
dramatic stress. the most erratic text, the adept addict at his best
so who grossed the fattest checks? you better add its debts, recoup doe
and grab the rest. my clan is next to snag whats left. i’m through tho
(word up son)

chorus

verse 2 (tek-nition)
verbal burst with metal projectiles. serve you first with several perfect
styles, rebels and exiles, curses worse than devils and reptiles
murderous stepchild who dissects through medical x-files
search and get stretched out in a he-rs- with elegant textiles
crevices death piles reaches the m-sses. the reaper’s in action
either relax or else the heat turn your features to ashes
from ashes to ash and dust to dust, from dusk ’til its dawn
they act what they rap and acting tough and bluff on their songs
they act like i can’t devour boulders (what’s up) my trial a disorder
like rigor mordis bars are broader than dwight howard’s shoulders
cowards posing like they be bosses man this sh-t is preposterous
really obnoxious whenever these n-ggas be flossing posing with
gritty responses. my delivery: monstrous, enemies: cautious
energy: off the richter scale these victims fell i’m sending
them off into the grips of h-ll (well) my n-ggas rolling with me
the gun-shine state, still known as the coldest city (n-gga, what?)

“true master makers of this rhyme sh-t, microphone user
microphone master, super rhyme maker”

chorus

“the flavor misbehavior from the super duper…”

- epidemic

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