Too Many Rappers (New Reactionaries Version)

(album: Hot Sauce Committee Part Two - 2011)

Mic check, mic check

One, one, two, two, three, three
Too many rappers and there's still not enough MC's
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

Like a Nexus-6, coming home to roost
Handheld 58 when it's time to get loose
Don't need the ear goggles, just put me through the speakers
Like a scientist with tubes and beakers
Have MCs over my house and fix 'em brunch
But you rappers? We going out going dutch
Now pass me the sword I'll start swinging
Just randomly chopping on a crazy ass mission

Because I'm back with the bang boogie
Oogie oogie
Strawberry Letter 23 like Shuggie
Oh my god, just look at me
Grandpa been rapping since '83

I'm supersonic like J.J. Fad
Got crazy ass tricks pulling out the bag
Don't forget the tarter sauce, yo, 'cause it's sad
All these crab rappers, they're rapping 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 caller 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

How many rappers must get dissed?
Give me eight bars and watch me bless this
I start to reminisce and I miss
Real hip hop with which I persist
Like rum and mojitos
Bullets and banditos
Matzoh balls and 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

One, one, two, two, three, three
Too many rappers and there's still not enough MC's
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 the type of lyric that 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 making stacks
(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 take the cake, I stole the mold
That golden microphone, well, that's mine to hold
Now why all these biters all up in my crotch space
Sniffing, buffing, huffing
And mean mugging with the Blimpie Bluffin
Back up off me, sucker, you ain't saying nothing

I'm broader than Broadway
I was in project hallway
Dual tape recorder lacing oratorials all day
I'm just getting started on this beat, this is foreplay
And when the song is finished, I can sing along with this

By the way, I have a strong fetish
For Christian Louboutin steppers
I hear that 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?

Aaaaayah, 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 MC's
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
That was dope