Too Many Rappers (feat. Nas)

Mic check

Mic check

One-one

Two-two

Three-three

Too many rappers and there's still not enough MCs

It goes three-three

Two-two

One-one

MCA, Ad-Rock, Mike D, that's how we get it done

Like, "Ladies and Gents, attention"

"Nas in the house with Beastie Boys"

We can turn it out

Perpetrators, we can point 'em out

So if you've got something on your mind, let it out

Yo, I've been in the game since before you was born

I'll might still be MC-ing even after you're gone

Strange thought, I know, but my skills still grow

The 80s, the 90s, 3000s and so

On and on until the crack of dawn

Until the year 3000 and beyond

Stay up all night and I MC

I'll never die 'cause death is the cousin of sleep

Because I'm back with a bang boogie, oogie oogie

Strawberry Letter 23 like Shuggie

Oh my God, just look at me

Grandpa been rappin' since '83

I'm supersonic like J.J. Fad

Got crazy-ass shit pullin' out the bag

Don't forget the tartar sauce, yo, 'cause it's sad

All these crab rappers, they're rappin' like crabs

I have carte blanche, the vagabond

Nas is the narcissist, my pockets are rotund

I'm no killer but compared to you, I'm more realer

You ain't a shot, a mobster or a drug dealer

A slug peeler, you're not. Mafioso, no

You ain't got the cut-throat in ya, beginner

I ain't trying to hear your racket

You work for police, dog, you snitch, you rat

You wear that jacket

H-h-how many rappers must get dissed?

Give me eight bars and watch me bless this

I start to reminisce, wooh, and I miss

The real hip-hop with which I persist

Like rum and mojitos

Bullets and banditos

Matzoh balls in soup

Jackets and Troop

Yes y'all, this is one for the history books

Nasty Nas, what's the word? Count it off on the hook (Let's go)

One-one

Two-two

Three-three

Too many rappers and there's still not enough MCs

It goes three-three

Two-two

One-one

MCA, Ad-Rock, Mike D, that's how we get it done

Like, "Ladies and Gents, attention"

"Nas in the house with Beastie Boys"

We can turn it out

Perpetrators, we can point 'em out

So if you've got something on your mind, let it out

'Cause this is the type of lyric goes inside your brain

To blow you bullshit rappers straight out the frame

My lyrics spin 'round like a hurricane twister

So get your hologram on, off of Wolf Blitzer

Too many rappers to shake a stick at

I ought to charge a tax for every weak rap I had to listen to

'Cause we'd be makin' $tack$ like Stax Records

My squad, we got a pact, we're never coming wack

To all you crab rappers and hackers

And circuit benders tweaked on Splenda

I-I take the cake, I stole the mold

The golden microphone, well, that's mine to hold

Now why all these biters all up in my crotch space?

Sniffin', buffin', huffin'

And mean muggin' with a Blimpie Bluffin

Back up off me, sucker, you ain't sayin' nothin'

I'm broader than Broadway

I was the project hallway

Dual tape recorder lacing oratorials all day

I'm just getting started on this beat, this is foreplay

And when the song's finished, I can sing along with this

By the way, I have a strong fetish for Christian Louboutin steppers

I hear Russian blonde's the wettest

But anyway, y'all better pay homage to my fellas

And that's what's on my mind

And on the rhyme, who's next up?

Mike D, the man of mystery

History in the making and now we're taking

Titles, awards and accolades

Skewer the competition as I sharpen my blades

We come together like peanut butter and sandwiches

Like pen and paper, like Picasso and canvases

Rocking stadiums to shitty bars

Go back in time, send a fax from my car

One-one

Two-two

Three-three

Too many rappers and there's still not enough MCs

It goes three-three

Two-two

One-one

MCA, Ad-Rock, Mike D, that's how we get it done

Like, "Ladies and Gents, attention"

"Nas in the house with Beastie Boys"

We can turn it out

Perpetrators, we can point 'em out

So if you've got something on your mind, let it out