Angry Mic This Can't Be Right

Tekst piosenki

(Verse 1)

How naive of you, go and get a CD
Or PCP thinking you can beat me

It’s feasible to cover each of you in feces
It’s inconceivable that we’re the same species

When he sneeze, you should worry about a disease
I need cheese but I’m handing out freebies

I know they skeevy just to put it briefly
I got more listeners on coke than the Bee Gees

Weekly, the priest preached to reach me
I eat E, now we tease a „beastly”

I decree, I see she is sleazy
And I don’t want the same shit that got Chi-Chi

I don’t retreat to my teepee, this chief smokes peace trees
Rolled up in a treaty

Started spitting over Anno on „Release Me”
So me and Anno can recede to BC

(CHORUS)

Motherfuckers think they’re tough enough that they try fucking with the flow
This Can’t Be Right
No other motherfucker will smother until they suffer and they know
It’s Angry Mic

(Verse 2)

I’m at your doorstep, not the one you can avoid
No corvettes for my portraits, I am annoyed

I’m in more debt, trying to get my pen employed
But I don’t force shit, these assholes got hemorrhoids

Hip-Hop toppled when he told you to wobble
Now he’s colossal, damn, what a debacle

Drugs up my nostril and I am hostile
But haze assuaged my rage until I’m docile

No gregarious, you fuckers are hilarious
Various therapists will tell you I’m nefarious

Embarrassments are imperil because I’m meritless
Precarious, make you sterile, then leave you parentless

Killed your name, the villain is still the same
Insane, been trained to drill in into your brain

You fussing? The repercussions will be disgusting
Trust him, you’ll grow accustomed to the concusiions

(CHORUS)

(Verse 3)

It’s the society, fuck my notoriety
I got to permit proprieties in a lack of sobriety

Ain’t got no acclamations, I do it quietly
My aspirations could never get as high as me

It’s my ritual, this user is habitual
It’s visceral, what do you do when you’re miserable?

West Coast looking at me like I’m mythical
It’s hard to be indifferent too when puffing on medicinal

I’m too gross not gross about a mil or more
I’m too ill, I can’t afford to have my skills ignored

So I still record cause I got the real aboard
Was my will restored? Or am I really bored?

A silly sword? That’s all you brought to fight me?
My pen is mightier than the fucking „All-Mighty”

When Mic vetilates on this mic, men afraid
You ain’t really Hard, You like Mike’s Lemonade

(CHORUS)