Gunshots and explosions]
(Scratching: Run DMC sample: "Run")
Run for cover
Here I go again ready to flow again
Better hold my mic don't blow again
Warned by alarms when the mic gets warm
Crowd'll get critical can't keep calm
Jet for the exit why hang around?
Words that I found make the mic melt down
If you stay better cooperate cuz I amputate
and whoever don't break I'm a suffocate
Leave 'em with asthma, you better pass the
mic to the massacre master who has the
power to build and destoy at the same time,
so track the wack at the right, and exact could shine (?)
Meant to beat overheat, but I won't stop,
so evacuate the spot when the mic's hot
Switch it from one hand to another,
and that's a hint, my brother, run for cover
Cuz I'm armed, my brain contains a bomb,
as if I escaped from Vietnam
Some people label me lethal, lyrics I made then put beats to
Format, collapse, your lungs twist your tongues,
you can't bump your gums off of none of the drums
Words that I made'll create an iller scene,
Eric B is the fly human being on the guillotine
Hook 'em up to a respirator, cuz it's the Mista Suffocator
What I write is like shovin' a mic down your windpipe
Don't let him bit rhymes Rakim write
No mic-to-mouth resuscitation is neccessary;
no obituary, and if they're left, they're buried
As it strikes on the same mic twice and then,
cut it on, and I'm-a strike again
I meditate off the breaks, till the place shakes,
then I make rain, hail, snow and earthquakes
Speak the truth, tear the roof off the mother
The stage is stompin' grounds -- run for cover
(scratching)
Evacuate the building, danger, cuz I came to explain the
strategy that'll be tragic automatically,
havin' me to cause another catastrophe
All you gotta do is give Rakim the
microphone and the crowd'll yell "Timber"
Buildings collapsin', rappers gettin' trapped in,
areas closed off, no one gets back in
So set up roadblocks, barracade the doors,
fade, put a detour sign on the stage
Hold my microphone as evidence, the weapon I use and been usin' ever since
the days in the park when, rap was an art then
Plus I was dominant, determined and dark-skinned
Makin' it hard to walk the streets at night
for those who talk the weak beats on the mic
Whoever's livin' large better wear camouflage
Prepare to be bumrushed when I yell charge
Surround by sound of the beat-down another brother,
this is stompin' grounds, run for cover
Wheels or foot, better not stay put
Whole place shook till the mic's unhooked
Then you've got seven minutes to vacate the premises
Lyrics'll echo soon as the break finishes
Don't act wild, single file to the door
No need for an encore, just clear the floor
Cuz my mic's about to self destruct,
the stage'll blow up when my rhymes erupt
So make sure the place is cleared out and abandoned,
cuz minutes from now it won't be standin'
Then send out and APB: All Poets Beware of a brother like me
Now how many rhymes could your man manufacture?
How many bitin' MCs can I capture?
Trap rappers who try to run off at the mouth;
take over their route, play 'em out like a Cub Scout
So leave troopin' for MCs at war,
and if it's a battle let the crowd keep score
Cuz me and the drummer make drama, and that's word to motherrun for cover
(scratching)
[instrumental