Open Mic Nite, Part 1
Viktor Vaughn feat. Lord Sear, Ben Grimm, Rodan & Louis Logic
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Lyrics
Wow, wow hey yeah, alright man that was great
Bye, get the fuck outta here, that was nice
Cut his mic off, thank you, I am back
I am your host, Little Willie B
Representing the hood god damn it
A little fat nigga who got money so fuck you
Up next we got the open mic poetry event
The 15th Annual
Sponsored by motherfucking Valentine, Cross Country Clothing
And a lot of wack shit that the hood will not wear anymore
We got my man up first, his name is Sambuca
Give it up for Sambuca, yo, come on!
The mic is here, stupid, come here Sambuca
This is the tone, the tone that I speak
The voice, the unheard voice of my people
Black, white, people, purple, yellow
Where do we stand?
Or does it matter?
Everyone, we all, we all live the same pain
Of ignorance together
And all have been lost
And at the end we all need each other
And that is how it is
Everything goes in a circle
So who are you to judge in who's whom?
And who the hell is who?
Yeah, alright, cut his mic, cut his mic
Yeah, yeah, yeah, that was nice brother
Alright, we got my man right here
Coming up on the microphone
His name is Dr. Moreau
Yo, inebriated, packing the tools, spin Doctor Moreau
Internationals in Galley, chewing the Cali, jacking a fool
Big, watch the sack of ratchet meet his doom
Big heroin since the days of homeroom in the back of the school
Cold War veteran, iron curtain over the wall defector
Authentic aeronautic agility to avoid the enemy motion detectors
On the other side of fear is freedom
Charismatic persona made conspicuous by his absence
Spoke French fluently with a high-pitched German accent
-Speaking French
Answer the pop reference in plain slanguage mixed with Pig Latin
Push the sizzle, my frizzle will vanish, perfect this
Kinda like Mase and Macy Gray sound
A little retarded but still infectious
Favorite pastime attacking the righteously impaired
Attach his back to a lithium battery, juicing him up
Keeping him trapped between delusions of grandeur
And his own feelings of inadequacy
Exposing the proletariat hordes
Roll with more funny style brothers than the Wayans
Irresistible force, immovable object
Communicate with prophets and original Native South American Mayans
Who utilize ancient secret ether breathing techniques
To raise their ki like Super Saiyans
These are trained guerrillas not found on the surface
But every occupation from aviation to cocaine dealers
Descended from scriptures, Biblical critically acclaimed thrillers
Known to sniff codeine, desensitized to e'rything
Stay addicted to painkillers, professional brain-spillers
Aw shit, you know it's on
We got my man without the encyclopedia
His name is Louis Logic, holler!
I used to be a loudmouth, back before I turned into a loud jerk
Crowd surfing into chicks with big tits, mouth thirst
I've been looking down shirts since I was young
Printed and drunk, swimming in drums of cinnamon rum
Isn't it fun when you piss on a punk
In a contest that isn't supposed to elevate beyond French
Y'all bitches just come to measure dicks?
Fuck all of that nonsense, I already got stoned, I'm getting six
If names don't hurt you, I may just murk you
Slay the first dude out, too late for curfew
And in case you heard Lou's a bad sport
You'll get a crash course on getting your ass kicked if you ask for it
How 'bout a passport to a nice little place
The landlord describes as a boot right in your face
Fuck the games, I won't just smudge your name
I'll feed you your own nuts today if you like bitter taste