Mic Line - MF DOOM, MF Grimm

Geedorah write a rhyme in the time he hollow out a flask

Cracked a Guinness Stout with his teeth one time, swallowed the glass

A pain in the ass, to say the least

He came with many new techniques to slay the beast

While simultaneously saving the streets

Bombing and calming the savage with above-average beats

Get the cabbage in the most lavish suites

Consummate marriages in between the middle of sheets

Provider of the vittles eats, trying to be the illest

Dad a kid’ll meet for the love of patter of little feets

It kind of gets you right here, don’t it?

Mess with mine, your life’ll be a nightmare, won’t it?

Left the 9 at home, I hope my lady don’t pawn it

Doggone it, it ain’t even got no serial number on it

For God’s sakes, spare the god the heartache

Mentally scar a smart snake before he start to fake

They love to hate him, on a certain level, need him

Geedorah known to make a deal with the Devil and beat him

Then proceed to sip a shot of vodka like methadone

The mic said to the headphone, «We just want to be left alone

So we can get it on to an unknown metronome»"

Don’t worry: will he get to zone?

Crews best to get their chrome

Pay your overdue dues to King Geedorah, better known

Getting grown, trying to get on the mic—instead, it’s blown

Too many freaks, not enough circuses

Only a true geek could peep how much work this is

So put that in your blunt hole and puff it

Stunts at the gun so y’all might as well stuff it

Or can it, abandon ship.

I’ll miss y’all

And if they insist, beat ‘em all like fistball

The news watch never stops

From the city it mocks, «Who that on the idiot box?»

«Well if it ain’t Geedorah, alert the media

Maker of the beats that’s a real hurt-feeder

Sometimes he come through to let you know he see ya

Don’t let him have to call Smog to head-to-toe graffiti ya»

Just flew in from Dallas, and, boy, is my talons calloused

And what’s a girl like you doing here amongst the island’s foulest?

A cat in Wonderland who found Alice

Gee her with the flows by the gallon or the chalice

Everybody wilding out, trying to be the wildest

And refuse to acknowledge why this shit is so childish

«One, two, one, two» play.

I wonder what they do today

Besides repeat their choruses more times than Confucius say

And start too many songs with «Uh» or «Uhhh»

Yeah, I hear you, soldier.

I told ya like, «No duh!»

It’s King Geedorah, the no-ass-getter

Still qualify as a world-class spitter

Shift to shitter, write a rhyme in the nighttime

Make a beat taste like wine like I spiked mine

And I heard it through the mic line

That crews don’t even write rhymes, and I

Hope that they get much better.

Yes, I

Doo-ooo-ooo-ooo

I pledge that, every day I rep

Know the ledge from every step, and I

Hope that they do get better.

Yes, I

Doo-ooo-ooo-ooo

Geedorah known to stack flows back-to-back-

-to-back flows like, «And now back to our show»

In other news, people had enough of them

Other crews, up their dues, snuff a fews, cut a fuse

Tape must be finished.

Now what?