Rakim High & Mighty, Wordsworth, Alkemist, Mr. Eon, wreckin shit "A-a-a-at-at night the open mic be invitin me to rhyme" Mr. E-O-N must be talkin bout me (Who dat?) The one and only High & Mighty MC Who be perpendicular when I be dickin ya E smoke a bone the size of a fibula Prepare for the slaughter, the lyrical marauder Unfreakable acts like me and your daughter, did I be coughin layin in the coffin Step out the fantasy world you be lost in Dead man walkin, engage you hawkin >From Pensauken to Vienna I be me and a slew to combat your crew With acrobatics only seen in cartoons Like the Go-ad Rucker, double-pumped ya Puncture, vocally rupture, puff a cluster Ambidextrious, both sides test this Removin wackness like asbestos "A-at night, the open mic be invitin me to rhyme" "The open mic...the open mic...at night the open mic be invitin me to rhyme" "Open m-mic, I bring out that box to the shit." "At night, the open mic be invitn me to rhyme... the open mic-mic-m-m-mic be inv..itin me to r-rh-hyme" "Open mic, I bring out that box to the shit" [Wordsworth] Yo check it out, yo; From cranadle to cradle and able to print I'm so deep that dirt's at my naval, my table submit You audio/video vaginal, lines imagine a magnitudes That give longitude and latitude some attitudes >From an environment, freestyle's a requirment Upon every album, that my parents had to hide the rent If my demise commence unexpectantly, just test my pee I bet you see ecstasy or some obscenity inject in me (what else?) I flood your airways, place planes in jeopardy Flights vanish, panick deputies, expectancy for jet debris Let it be, and commence the record to play I'm so ahead of my time when I talk there's a seven second delay Don't judge a book by its cover when I'm inventin I add your colon to my sentence, and start to pluck off on your appendix Dexterity hurled is about to rally the world You can't write without using like, what are you some type of valley girl? At open mics, I'm tellin y'all one last time Stop askin for a capellas and then kickin those wach rhymes, flatline what, yo-yo-yo "A-a-a-a-a-at-a-at night the open mic be invitin me to rhyme ..the open m...mic be invitin me to r-r...rhyme" "Open mic...I bring out that box to the shit" [Thirstin Howl III] I'm accustomed to abiding by freestyle penal code My rhymes are like long drives going down a scenic road Taught discipline through paragraphs, walk backstreets and narrow paths My kicks look dirty and pants sag like I have no ass! " />