Microphones - Aceyalone, Peace

Excuse me — sir, whose microphone is this?

«I think it’s that guy over there»

This guy over here?

Excuse me, is this your microphone?

«Yeah»

I mean, I’ve seen a lot of MC’s on this microphone

But this is your microphone, right?

«Yeah, yeah, it’s mine»

I mean, what I really wanted to know is

Is this really, I mean really, really your microphone?

This microphone is mine

Whenever I hold it, I transcend time

This microphone allows me to shine

Bright, with the light

This microphone is my weapon

This microphone is my confidant

This microphone is my magical wand

To make all y’all, all y’all

I mean all y’all respond

Yeeeaahh

This microphone takes me one step beyond

This microphone helped to save my soul

This microphone helped to pave this road

They say «what do you do?»

I say «what do you mean?»

They say «what's your profession»

I say «microphone fiend»

This microphone is the one and only thing

That lets me live, lets me open up and give

This microphone helps me not be broke

This microphone helped to feed my folks

This microphone always keeps me awoke

I tell the truth and I don’t tell jokes

Now check it

I tell the truth and I don’t tell jokes

Now check it out

This microphone, when it’s in my hand

With or without a band, or a mic stand

I command, even if it’s static-y and distorted

I still gotta automatically record it

This microphone, connected to the power supply

My thoughts blossom, like flowers in the sky

This microphone…

Deactivate factor

We fracture microphones

Is that a microphone?

a microphone?

Go on and roam, take out loans

If you wanna own, backpains, swallow it down

Live from LA, it’s Peace and Aceyalone

Speak rhymes over cell phones

Now I know you not gonna sing that song

Why?

cause ain’t nobody gonna understand that, homes

This fool is the most assured ??

and thongs on

Down car phones, somebody passed out

With the car door opened, assed out

Run up on him, see what he got

A nice box of microphones, microphones

These are the same ones being slung to the clones

Oooh, another busted busta getting broke by the microphone.

Okay, now I see you proved your point

So now, I do have another question for you

«What's that?», «Why so many questions, man?»

I want to know, who’s style is that?

Aw P.E.A.C.E.

man you know these fools are just LIARS

They got fundamental problems they’re good DRYERS

But they’re not FLIERS

They’re wings are broken, they’re sittin' there choking on bones

When they can get down on the microphone

I’m committed, I did it, I hit it

Completely.

reared system

All booted up uh, all suited up huh

Looking all cute, when I’m about to.

take your boots

And I’m about to take the gloves too

And everything I love I. love you but I still gotta shove you

In my oven full of MCs cause you’re not maTURE

You’re not PURE, your styles don’t enDURE

For SURE!.

this is WAR!

And I’m a warrior and you get ripped up and tore

All into pieces, huh, but uh check my thesis

P.E.A.C.E.

is up next, aight peace

You say styles is what you want, huh

You say styles is what you flaunt, huh

But you’re not knowing about P.E.

A-C-E and Aceyalone

We get down straight burn it to the bone

On the micropho-o-one, micropho-o-one

Get on down hound, dance if you wa-a-ant

We don’t care we 'bout to take y’all home

To the end of the cut y’all don’t know what’s up

But break me down now

See ya homie

We out

Microphone