Freeway, Jake One, Young Chris - Microphone Killa lyrics

Libs woo! Free! yeah, we in here
Uh, huh, let's get 'em

Who am I?
Microphone killa, microphone killa
Microphone killa swifter than a breeze
I will Swiss cheese emcees

Even though I got a short temper
Had a long day
I will kill a tall nigga with a long K
Matter of fact I'm exactly what the song say
Mic killa, best flow-er
"that's what they all say"
Let me prove it to you
Deliver the music to you
Raw and uncut bake, I'm not puttin any on it
Back, I put the city on it
East coast, head on my shoulders
Put my fifty on it
All day, take it off just to rest
I'm not a sleeper
If a nigga try to creep me
Put the heater to his chest
Yes, bullets penetrate fresh
Tag him with the chrome
Get blown like reefer
He tried to take flight
Hit him right with the beam
Since I was a pre-teen
Been a microphone fiend had dreams to rock
Then I signed with The Roc
It's still Roc for life
Rhymesayers is the team, yeah

Ad libs

Find 'em all, line 'em up, pick 'em up
You say they got the sickest mouth
No doubt, grind 'em up, kick 'em out
That's one thing that they hate about me
I body emcees
Send 'em back to they paper route
They say they can do without, stay without
Never in doubt, if I'm without
I gotta bring the lasers out
That's one thing that I hate about y'all
Whenever I floss
I always bring the haters out
Used to sling hard, bring the neighbors out
Now I throw yard parties
Bring the neighbors out
Turntables out, one mic, one DJ
A couple guns
That's how we get it done, Jake One, Freeway
Do this with no delay, no doubt
They bang my records in the
House and on the E-way
How you think I got the
Name Freeway? I move out
Listen, 20-20 vision couldn't see me, yeah

Microphone +Killa+, no Cam'ron
Bomb like landmine, I don't ask shit
I demand mine
I take a little bit and expand mine
Grandson killin 'em grandma
Chest out, head high, until I'm a dead guy
I'm a shed light on all the lives I'm lead by
Examples of successful legends
And historical presence
As I started reppin on Roc-A-Fella Records
A blessing in disguise
Y'all fools ain't messin with these guys
Don't insult me, you messin with my pride
It'll cost you, dirty young niggas'll off you
Pullin heat, throwin bullets deep
Randy Moss you it ain't hard to
Six feet deep is where they toss you
Detectives tell mommy that they lost you
Tell 'em Free, no women and kids
But we killin niggas just like we
Kill these motherfuckin bars too