[Verse 1]

Yo... now dig it...

I bust flows to make you hoes quit rappin'

How many niggas in the crowd want to see it happen

People be acting like they got something to prove

Picking up the mic, talking all foul and rude

About who they shot and all the rocks they sold

It's a mystery to me how that bullshit went Gold

And all I hear's keep it real and represent

Nigga, fuck that shit, 'cause I'm never hesitant

I'm from the old school, '85 get live

Peace to the true and all the fake niggas die

You must be from Mars 'cause I guess you never heard

That I blaze crews like a fat bag of herb

Word to my ill peeps in the streets

Flows so rugged they fucking crack the concrete

So speak up now or forever hold your peace

The new millennium, that bullshit is 'bout to cease

Each and every one of you got a job to do

Gotta stay real and keep yo' shit true

If you want it, punk – you better bring your whole crew

Your shit stink like that damn doo-doo on your shoe

Microphone check, one two, one two

Breaker breaker one nine, Ronnie Cash coming through

With that ill flow, you better chill 'fore I crush you

Don't pack gats but I got niggas that'll bust you

[Hook]

Microphone master, he's the super beat maker

We get def as the the others get faker

I'm the microphone master, he's the super beat maker

We get def as the the others get faker

[Verse 2]

I herd your crew like cattle and cook your ass like a steak

Your flows got less feeling, that's why my shit taste great

('Cause I'm that real deal) 'Cause I'm the real nigga that you hate to see

Phat Kat coming straight from the 313

With that nigga Jay Dee, runnin' shit behind the boards (That's right)

Don't fuck with no mics with no long-ass cords

Because, man – my shit be hitting, my flows is too drastic

You bony phoney emcees get ripped like plastic

From my Grenadier, Swisher blunt or a Phillie

Niggas be mad because they hoes say I'm silly

But really, what's real in this field called rap?

All you wannabe gun slingers who never bust a cap

Your time's expired – nigga, in the game you a liar

Ain't gon' kick dirt on a motherfucking camp fire

Your style is filth, you gone without a trace

Won't talk behind your back, I'll tell you straight to your face

[Hook]

I'm the microphone master, he's the super beat maker

We get def as the the others get faker

I'm the microphone master, he's the super beat maker

We get def as the the others get faker

[Outro]

He's the... beat maker

We get def... as the others get faker

I'm the... microphone master, he's the... beat maker

We get def as the the others get faker

Microphone master, he's the beat maker

[looped until fade out] "He's the beat maker" "He's the beat maker"...