Fugees - How Many Mics [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Intro: Wyclef]
Pick up your microphones... Pick up your microphones...

[Hook:]
How many mics do we rip on the daily
Say, me say many money say me say many many many
How many mics do we rip on the daily
Many money say me say many many many

[Verse One: Lauryn]
I get mad frustrated when I rhyme
Thinkin' of all the kids that try to do this for all the wrong reasons
Season change mad things rearrange
But it all stays the same like the love doctor Strange
I'm tame like the rapper
Get red like a snapper, when they do that
Got your whole block saying true dat
If only they knew that it was you who was irregular
Sold your soul for some secular muzak that's whack
Plus you use that, loop over and over
Claiming that you got a new style
Your atempts are futile, oooh child
Your puerile brain waves are sterile
You can't create you just wait to take, my tapes
Laced with malice, hands get calloused, from gripping microphones
From here to Dallas
Go ask Alice if you don't believe me
I get Inner Visions like Stevie
See me, essential from the chalice like the weed be
Indeed be like Khalid Muhammad
MCs make me vomit; I get controversial
Freak your style with no rehearsal
Au contraire mon frere, Don't you even go there
Me without a mic is like a beat without a snare
I dare to tear into your ego, we go, way back like some ganja and pelequo
Or Coleco-Vision
My rhymes make incisions in your anatomy
And I'll back this with Deuteronomy or Leviticus, God made this word
You can't get with this; Sweet like licorice
Dangerous like syphillis, yeah

[Hook]

[Verse Two: Wyclef]
I used to be underrated, now I take iron, makes my shit constipated
I'm more concentrated
So on my day off with David Sonnenberg I play golf
Run through Crown Heights screaming out, Mazel Tov!
Problem with no man;before black, I'm first human
Appetite to write like Frederick Douglass with a slave hand
Street pressure word to poppa, I ain't goin' under
One day I'll have a label and make deals with Tommy Motolla
Momma always told me "You're one in a million"
Always watch your back, never tangle with Haitian Sicilians
Now I got a record deal, "How does it feel?"
I'm never gonna survive unless I get crazy like Seal
Cause the whole world's out of order
So at night the fiend's dance on Grease with John Travolta
One got slaughtered as he coughed blood from his mouth
The other tried to duck and caught a left with my Guiness Stout
Brother brother can't you get this through your head
This is set up by the fed's they're scoping us with their Infra-reds

[Hook]

[Verse Three: Pras]
Too many MC's not enough mikes
Exit your show like I exit the turnpike
Dicin' dynamite like Dolomite
Double do's been like I don't Dick Van Dyke
Star light to star bright the freaks come out at night
Like my man Wyclef - "I wear my sunglasses at night"
And my panache will mosh your entourage
Squash the squad and hide their bodies under my garage
And when the cops come lookin, I be bookin to Brooklyn
Leave the trails broken flippin' tokens to Hoboken
A clean getaway like Alec Baldwin
Driving in my fast car playing Tracy Chapman