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[Chorus]I'm the jack of all trades, master of one |
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Black and underpaid, blastin this mic gun |
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Put it to your temple, and pop yo' pimple |
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Break you down like kempo, |
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I'm trained in the arts[Aceyalone] |
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I specify in rockin my page from the heart |
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I dig down deep within my psyche |
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Information excites me, the knowledge invites me |
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When I, throw on my |
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Nike's and step to it nicely |
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Huh, it's unlikely any man could out-mic me |
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Lightning, please strike me like it did when |
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I was a child |
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Hit me with a hundred thousand volts and make me smile |
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You name it |
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I can aim it, catch it and tame it, explain it |
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Take it and paint it in beautiful technicolor |
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Directly from another place you could expect no other |
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To stand by these trues and break these rules |
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We defy the laws of cool and sang these blues and bring this news[Chorus][Aceyalone] |
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I'm that hip-hop |
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SPOKESman, |
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I ain't a coke man |
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A good folks man, he reached for the mic and broke his hand |
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It's not my problem, it's not my fault |
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It's not my concern, |
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I don't give a shit about |
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Them dirty fingers, reachin for the scepter |
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All up in yo' head but |
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I'm not Dr. |
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LectorOr Dr. |
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Phil, but |
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I still got to killwhite widdle, black widdle, fat little pill |
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To take for your enjoyment, to get psychadelic |
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I don't sell it |
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I spill it out, and tell it so angelic |
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My rap gat makes your brain splat |
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Blow up, everything that's holdin up your hat |
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It's firin the pistons gas, in the engines |
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Fuck a foot in the door, we takin off the hinges |
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When my, dash is broken, glass is broken |
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And class is open, and it's still left smokin[Chorus] |
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Okay Mr. Pick to |
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Ten, is it sickenin?[Aceyalone] |
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What kind of little box you thinkin in? |
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Think again |
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Draw a blank, you saw a tank |
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But didn't see my soldiers on the flank movin up another rank |
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The Hip-Hop |
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Hall of Fame went up in flames |
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When they, mention my name it's tension in they brains |
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An extension of the game and, |
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I stake this claim |
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And break these chains and this one's for the last train |
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I'm the jack of all trades, master of one |
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And the thing |
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I mastered is blastin this mic gun |
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Put it to your temple, and pop yo' pimple |
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Break you down like kempo, |
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I'm trained in the arts |
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We got one verse left to rock this beat |
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And seperate the good shit from the weak |
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So, get in the groove, and feel the sound |
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And once you're inside spread yourself around |
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From the bottom to the top, top, to the bottom |
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I'm, gonna rock 'em, while, |
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I still got 'em |
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I rock this hour with style and power |
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And this, is yo' |
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MC hourI don't know if, all of you have heard |
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But it's up to |
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YOU to rip.. {*vocals fade out* |
