FreShFemaLeFridaY

I get mad frustrated
when I rhyme
Thinking of all the kids
who try to do this
For all the wrong reasons
Seasons change,
mad things rearrange
But it all stays the same
like the love Doctor Strange
I'm tame
like the rapper,
Get red
like a snapper
when they do that
Got your whole block saying
"TRUE DAT"
If only they knew that,
It was you
who was irregular,
Sold your soul for some secular
Muzak that's wack,
Plus you use that loop
over and over
Claiming that you got a new style
Your attempts are futile,
Ooo chile
Your puerile,
Brain waves are sterile
You can't create,
you just wait to take,
my tape's
Laced with malice
Hands get calloused
From grippin' microphones
from here to Dallas
Go ask Alice
if you don't believe me,
I get Inner Visions like Stevie
See me,
ascend from the chalice
like the weed be
Indeed be
like Khalil Muhammad
MC's make me vomit
I get controversial
Freak your style with no rehearsal
Ooo,
contraire mon frere
Don't you even go there
Me without a mic
is like a beat
without a snare
I dare
to tear into your ego,
We go,
way back
like some ganja
and pelequo
Or Coleco-Vision
My mind makes incisions
in your anatomy
And I'll back this
with Deuteronomy
Or Leviticus,
God made this word
You can't get with this
Sweet like licorice,
Dangerous like syphillis,
yeah.

- Lauryn HiLL (When with the Fugees, from the Score, song – How Many Mics)