"Respect Tha Mic"  Parental Advisory genre: Rap
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	Fuckin ILL song!!! I'm yellin and dissin all these wack kids who think that just cuz they have money or some shit that they can rap. It's not true. You need SKILLS to rap. Recognise!!!
	CD: Da Revolution   Label: Milky Way Recordings Credits: Beat: Wyshmaster; Feat. Interviewer: British Newcomer, courtesy of Milky Way Recordings
	Story Behind the Song I was just so sick and tired of these kids....I simply had to tell em off. I hope eryone feels it, cuz it's madd true today. Too many damn sellouts and wannabes!! Lyrics British Newcomer: 'Ello there. This is British Newcomer, and I'm having an interview with Natcap. Natcap? Natcap: Uh, yeah? British Newcomer: Tell us what you think about people that don't...as you say..."Respect The Mic". Natcap: I think they're a buncha wack ass mothafuckas, and they don't need to be tryina spit cuz they can't do it!! British Newcomer: Oh....I see. Well, in, uh....in a sentence, I suppose, could you tell us something to say to these people who don't, as you say, "Respect The Mic"? Natcap: Yea...RESPECT THA MUTHAFUCKIN MIC!!!! Dumbass..... British Newcomer: Uh....thank you... Chorus: Don’t come to me sayin I’ll see my blood tonight// Ya’ll disgust me wit dat shit, go get some skills and write// It’s either I got cars or clother or cheese or you just bite// Can’t prove shit then move it, ya’ll must repect tha mic// Verse 1: Yo, I’m always gone respect the mic and expect my rights// As a perfect MC wit penmenship dat’s outta sight// Could you expect dese rhymes from a 15 year old mind?// Spit my acidic saliva in hater’s faces, leave em blind// On tour it’s tought for me because I break da electronics// When my lyrics bring a plauge dat’s worse than bubonic// Lyrical strength like bionics, bringin impact like crashing comets// I’m on more ladies heads than a 1760’s bonnet// Pop out of da song wit a rocket launcher and bazooka// More kids play me than commander keen and Duke Nukem// While I nuke ya cuz my rhymes are harder than 12 shells// If I catch you misusin the mic, you betta up and bail// Come in blastin like a storm trooper invadin your alpha sector// I’m so hot dat my prescence sets off smoke detectors// Ya’ll need to quit sellin out and if you don’t then we gone fight// Talentless foos get on yo knees and just straight respect tha mic// Chorus: Don’t come to me sayin I’ll see my blood tonight// Ya’ll disgust me wit dat shit, go get some skills and write// It’s either I got cars or clother or cheese or you just bite// Can’t prove shit then move it, ya’ll must repect tha mic// Verse 2: Most of ya’ll so wack I’ll write a check so you don’t rip// Cuz you could spit on a trampoline and the crowd still won’t flip// See, you can’t respect the mic, give it here and I’m gone show you// Ya’ll kids don’t bring beef, ya’ll tryina start some tofu// That’s why I ignore you and I just keep droppin bombs// More bombs than was built by Sadam, more than we’ll drop on bin Laden// Cuz I’m what’s goin on in dat song they wrote in Nam// Got more countries hatin me than the nation of Islam// But it is wrong to deny that what I spit is the best// Yo I’m the mic police, ya’ll under cardiac arrest// Won‘t stop until my death, real MCs don’t use oxygen// We just rock to win and die when we can’t rock dese kids// Compared to me ya’ll kats puts crowds to sleep like a lecture// I eat mic violators for lunch faster than Hannibalecter// If you try to battle me, I’ll numb ya mentality// Than I’ll bend reality and use a Mortal Kombat fatality// Chorus: Don’t come to me sayin I’ll see my blood tonight// Ya’ll disgust me wit dat nonsense, go get some skills and write// It’s either I got cars or clother or cheese or you just bite// Can’t prove it then move it, ya’ll must repect tha mic// Verse 3: You didn’t think I could rap, then didn’t think I could flow fast, I’m bout to smoke ass// You better cloak fast, I’ma give you a whippin for makin me trippin in the middle of rippin// And spittin, see my personality, when I do a switch up on the beat, get the fuck down on yo knees and repsect the m-i-c// What is this I see? You wanna test, not the best thing I suggest you rest before you ingest your last breath// Mothafuckas think incest when I’m fuckin round on this mic, damn right, I got this bitch up inside my draws at night// I’m bout to reach a new height, cuz my damn dick is so big, hence why I’m collectin all your girls when you whipped out yo twig// Like someone threw Bis and Ludacris in a can, bam, like a damn jack in the box, here I am// And I know you can’t stand the way I flow worth a grand, write so much you’d think the damn pen married my hand// Ka-blam is all your threats but I don’t give it no sweat, no regrets, no defects, no denyin that I am the best// So just respect the mic or I’ma dissect your sights, I can’t understand why the fuck you fuckin at all like a trisexual dyke// Chorus: Don’t come to me sayin I’ll see my blood tonight// Ya’ll disgust me wit dat shit, go get some skills and write// It’s either I got cars or clother or cheese or you just bite// Can’t prove shit then move it, ya’ll must repect tha mic//

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