Pass the Mic Songtext
von Coops

Pass the mic, pass the mic
Yeah, pass the mic, pass the mic
Yo, yeah, said pass the mic, pass the mic
Yo

It′s rap's golden child but I stole the style
Folders and files full of evidence for when it goes to trial

See this started on the Nile, now you find me on the riverly

Still won′t find another that's as sick as
Me worldwide and they're still sleeping

This whole hood knows I′m real deep in
Don′t wanna shout me out, they're shook, that′s without a doubt
Must think I want their spot, blud you're all shit
What I write on this page is equivalent to full clips
Don′t get hit when these bullets spray
Lick you off the stage
Pick the microphone up and tell the crowd he was in the way
I'm here to stay, get used to me
Them man are used to be′s


Getting used by corporations just to boost the P's
Please, don't insult my intelligence, you ain′t relevant
When I step in the room I stand out like I′m an elephant
Them man are elegant like bitches all in their skinny jeans
Rappers wear dresses and you play it like you never seen

Who passed you the mic?
What gave you the pen and said you can write?
What gassed you and made you so high?
When every style you got you bite
That's just how I know me and these rappers ain′t alike
Who the fuck passed you the mic?
And said that you can write?
Your whole style's dead, get on your bike
Every single bar you got you bite
Why don′t you get your own life?

On the real though, listen, yo

This style's diabolical
So I sit and prophesise like an oracle
These writers are comical
Get to the root like a follicle
No obstacles, these MCs get burnt like fossil fuels
I′m like butterfinger brothers dropping jewels
I hopscotch all over the spot, break rules


Kill it in one take, they take two
Or too many takes to make it a great tune
Dark streets, the gutter I write will break loose like
Daylight, uncontrollable through the grapevine
Hate crimes, stuck in the world, ain't a great sight
Death's on the end of the line, have a FaceTime
The gates by your grave site, bleed from the pain like
You better not bite like teeth on a canine

Steam train over the game, best to fey my
Lane like it′s my right of way, still I wanna change

Inception, thank my mother for her invention
Intention, to take you rap addicts to my dimension
Did I mention I′ve been packing these packets to get essential
Dodging the coppers who be tryna attack us for living better
Ambition, I had me a beretta to get this cheddar
Young, brave and wilder, my talent versus my temper
But who the fuck passed you the mic?

I've been hearing these rappers and they be sounding kinda shite
I be spitting that crack, I should have named myself White
Niggas stuck in the dark cloud but I gave them the light
The manual, but I′m tryna be annual, not part time

These soft niggas say ouch when they hear hard rhymes

This summer's tube said this is our time
To grab the book and give our rhymes
To a nation impatient to hear bars, rhymes
I let it go, I make the crowd go whoa

When they pass me the mic I′m like yo, yo yo

Who the fuck passed you the mic?
What gave you the pen and said you can write?
What gassed you and made you so high?
When every style you got you bite
That's just how I know me and these rappers ain′t alike
Who the fuck passed you the mic?
And said that you can write?
Your whole style's dead, get on your bike
Every single bar you got you bite
Why don't you get your own life?

Yo, never stop with the terror, you′re a flop of the era
Keep ducking this fella like helicopter propeller
Your woman hates your music now, it′s a hard fella

Only felt it kicking when the doctor did tell her

Now it's pumping, find me in the trees crumping

So red, every vessel in my head busting
Ain′t dealing with the joke, it's stand up

Like a game of poker, put your hand up
Or else they get their jam shot
Journ summit like space to Earth comets
Call a peace treaty then curse the first summit
I′m worse than my first summon
The only circle round the head will be you
Spinning the fuck out with the birds humming
Disturbed something, leave the mammals and the Earth running
No change to the sky but I bring a new sun in

Rolling like a hay bale through an older town
Had an ultrasound since my very first book was found, yeah

Who passed you the mic?
What gave you the pen and said you can write?
What gassed you and made you so high?
When every style you got you bite
That's just how I know me and these rappers ain′t alike
Who the fuck passed you the mic?
And said that you can write?
Your whole style's dead, get on your bike
Every single bar you got you bite
Why don't you get your own life?