1.B-Boy Document '99 (Feat. Mos Def ＆ Mad Skillz)
Lyricist：Brad Baker, Milo Berger, Donnie Lewis, Eric Meltzer, Lance
Quinn, Dante T Smith, Joseph T Joe Thomas
Yeah, uhh
What it look like？ Mad Skillz
Uhh Mr. Eon
The Mighty Mos Def
The Mighty Mos
The E.C. Rawkus connection
Coast to coast
From '88 to '99
What？ What？ What？ What？
It's on fire tonight, everything on my side is lookin' alright
It's high power original, B-Boy traditional
Raw bass material, huh, when individual
True brand imperial you're hearin' on your stereo
Transcribe the live, the Mos, Def init-ial
Sit back and listen, you ain't, in no position
To deal with my condition-al mentally and physical
Strength is indivisible, crews be comin' pitiful
Speech be sound typical, downfall habitual
Ock, I'm not feelin' you, don't know what your label
Tellin' you or what magic beans they sellin' you
I can flow, you can't though, example
Of a cat who just a modern day Sambo
Who be bitchin' out to A＆R demands so
You can collect your little petty cash advance hoe
You knock-kneed and sloppy, but not me
I'm I-N-D, E-P-E, N-D-E-N-T
It was a jam at the center, and the party was shakin'
And the poppers was poppin', and the breakers was breakin'
And it won't be long till everybody know that
B-Boys rock the document, do it
Yo, yo, you on the injured, I'm hot to death
I'm foul, plus I'm winnin', you think I shot the ref？
Rock a vest if you out of turn speakin'
'Cause I'm right there like nightmares
I catch MC's while they sleepin'
I'm back, these rap cats is wildin'
Got 'em in the studio poppin' Valiums, remasterin' they album
I'm about to re-up and restructure the case
You stuck, you about to get rearranged and replaced
I got plans for this rap game
Put your head in the toilet and look son
If you think my shit done changed
My shit is, out of your range, rip you out of your frame
Cop your tape, and the next day, copped an exchange
If you ain't, rockin' raw, what you rockin' for？
Without heat, y'all M C's, ain't hot no more
So for you lame cats tryin' to put your hit out
Try rockin' back and forth it might be easier to get your shit
out!
It was a jam at the center and the party was shakin'
And the poppers was poppin', and the breakers was breakin'
And it won't be long till everybody know that
B-Boys rock the document, do it
I'm Jedi Master, Mase Windu, what you been through
Keep M C's heads wrapped like Erykah Ba-du
Hip-Hop's Cleon Jones, when Eon Jones
Wackest M C's, we pee on those
No need to impede The High and Mighty mystique
That shit would be as ignorant as Jimmy the Greek
Claimin' they Godzilla's when they really Godzooki
Got a mill' from Charlie Brown, when I kidnapped Snoopy
Eon, sale or performance, in any ordinance
Rhyme menace, that burst your verbal nuisance
In accordance, with all the laws from the cordless
Star buck coming through, leavin' any pimp whore less
Stereo stompin', defeatin' me is like
Latrell chokin' up John Thompson, Charles Bronson
Had a death wish for this next to left shit
Leavin' all these hot air MC's breathless
It was a jam at the center, and the party was shakin'
And the poppers was poppin', and the breakers was breakin'
And it won't be long till everybody know that
The B-boys rock the document and said B-Boys rock the document
do it
B-boy, do-do-document
B-boy, document
B-boy, document
B-boy, do-do-document
B-boy, do-do-document
2.Open Mic Night Remix (Feat. Wordsworth ＆ Thirstin Howell III)
Lyricist：E Barrier, C Bobbit, J Brown, B Byrd, V Dejesus, William
Griffin, Vinson Johnson, A Maman, Christopher Martin, E Meltzer
This is a remix, this is a remix
A-a-at night the open mic be invitin' me to rhyme' Rakim
High ＆ Mighty, Wordsworth, Alkemist, Mr. Eon, wreckin' shit
A-a-at night the open mic be invitin' me to rhyme'
Mr. E O N must be talkin' 'bout me
The one and only High ＆ Mighty MC
Who be perpendicular when I be dickin' ya
E smoke a bone the size of a fibula
Prepare for the slaughter, the lyrical marauder
Unfreakable acts like me and your daughter, did
I be coughin' layin' in the coffin
Step out the fantasy world you be lost in
Dead man walkin', engage you hawkin'
From Pensauken to Vienna
It be me and a slew to combat your crew
With acrobatics only seen in cartoons
Like the Go-ad Rucker, double-pumped ya
Puncture, vocally rupture, puff a cluster
Ambidextrous, both sides test this
Removin' wackiness like asbestos
A-a-at night, the open mic be invitin' me to rhyme
The open mic, the open mic at night the open mic be
Invitin' me to rhyme'
Open m-m-mic, I bring out that box to the shit
'At night, the open mic be invitin' me to rhyme
The open mic, mic, m-m-mic be invitin' me to r-r-rhyme
'Open mic, I bring out that box to the shit'
Yo check it out, yo, from cranadle to cradle and able to print
I'm so deep that dirt's at my naval, my table submit
You audio video vaginal, lines imagine a magnitudes
That give longitude and latitude some attitudes
From an environment, freestyle's a requirement
Upon every album, that my parents had to hide the rent
If my demise commence unexpectedly, just test my pee
I bet you see ecstasy or some obscenity inject in me
I flood your airways, place planes in jeopardy
Flights vanish, panic deputies, expectancy for jet debris
Let it be and commence the record to play
I'm so ahead of my time when I talk there's a seven second delay
Don't judge a book by its cover when I'm inventin'
I add your colon to my sentence
And start to pluck off on your appendix
Dexterity hurled is about to rally the world
You can't write without using like
What are you some type of valley girl？
At open mics, I'm tellin' y'all one last time
Stop askin' for a capellas and then kickin' those wach rhymes
Flatline what, yo, yo, yo
A-a-at night the open mic be invitin' me to rhyme
The open m-m-mic be invitin' me to r-r-rhyme
Open mic I bring out that box to the shit
I'm accustomed to abiding by freestyle penal code
My rhymes are like long drives going down a scenic road
Taught discipline through paragraphs
Walk backstreets and narrow paths
My kicks look dirty and pants sag like I have no ass
Flippin' styles that'd pioneered in the Space Age
Writin' your first paragraph, I'm already on my eighth page
For the way you write your rhymes
I could tell you never really made grades
Going through life miserable, hatin' yourself on payday
A pleasant plea, thirstin' in parentheses
I heard a mute man mention me
To a blind woman on Vescey Street
Urged to leave gats alone in memory of Pumpkin and Faster Poem
Wouldn't want my moms to identify me with half the dome!
A toast, with high price gangrere
Battle the best motherfuckers and whoever they bring here
Long term, sought through rations
I even put freestyle under special skills when submitting
application
Flows, that can't be followed by asthma patients
Got a deathwish？ Here's his extension, ask for Satan
The rap languages me and more, findin' subjects in Singapore
Impressin' MC's who swore to God they'd seen it all
'The open mic be invitin' me to rhyme
The open mic, the open mic be invitin' me to rhyme
Open mic I bring out that box to the shit
3.The Last Hit (Feat. Eminem)
Lyricist：Milo Berger, Marshall Iii Mathers, Eric Meltzer
Shady that's me
High and mighty trilogy
Back with the flyest material
Shady, Shady
That, that, that's me
High, high and mighty trilogy
Back with the
Funky beats
Packin' this third eye, pursue a cyclops
They trade in they high tops for nice sized white rocks
(Excuse me)
Words in my right, that pass my left ear
Your style is ass out like the bulls are next year
(You're gone)
Fear this veneer, you get stung like virgins
Who that cat splurgin' instead of rehearsin'？
Tough guys, degentrify your high rise
Lookin' more like Ronald than them fuckin' fry guys
Go on uptown fuckin' senoritas
InTaco Bell screamin', viva gorditas
Bring all your dogs, I give 'em rabies
They never had a chance like my two aborted babies
Got pope John Paul the 2nd, prayin' to Satan
Have your vegan girlfriend cookin' up bacon
On barbituates with that shit that you hit
Smoke my spliffs withcha, 'cause spinal bifida
My nine is liftin' ya, six feet when I spray rounds
Hit you with 12 shots in mid air and four more on the way down
As eight strays graze through a kid's hair on the playground
You lay down on a stretcher
(Don't get carried away now)
No pun intended, just hop out of your whip
And leave it unattended before I whip out this gun and end it
Unless you want it dented with bullet holes any minute
'Cause I can leave your infinite full of those even if someone's
in it
Snatch the airbag, hit the corner and park it
Corner the market, I got her tied up in a chair and gagged
Bitches get smacked and grabbed by the hair and dragged
Like cavewomen, while I'm grave diggin' with Marilyn man'
If you got a bowl of hash better cash it
You got a satchel, flash it, I'ma take your last hit
And if you spittin' wack shit on the microphone
I'ma snatch it outta your hand so fast I'ma detach it
So if you got a bowl of hash, you better cash it
You got a satchel, flash it, I'ma take your last hit
I'm flabbergasted off two tabs of acid
Threw my baby's mother in the hatchback and latched it
Yo yo, Eon's wack now, how you think that？
Couldn't get on my record if you were shrink rap
(Can I get a rhyme？)
Desecrate a crate with these rhymes I be totin'
Let's go back online and jerk off on your modem
I got stupid mucus from these loose lips
My loose leaf leave your whole persona weak
To the point that you stand up on your feet, best retreat
Let's go back in time and steal my whole steez
The quickening, did a bris at the christening
I'm exercisin', doing liftings and twistings
Instinct's the nicest, I keep tellin' you
What the fuck this guy on the corner been sellin' you？
Here buy this I'm E-mailin you, at the wrong website
And mispellin' you, prank you and put the fear of hell in you
Escaped bellevue, stuffed the nurse in a purse
Disperse like I added too many words in a verse
Slim Shady, a perverted version of birth
Drivin' off, leavin' a murdered virgin at church
The first person who searchin' the earth for the motherfucker
That pulled the plug when they shoulda alerted the surgeon first
(Kill his ass)
Get thrown curves, and hit with your own words
Leave me alone bitch, I get on my own nerves
And if I don't got two balls and a middle finger to throw up
I'm takin' off both shoes and stickin' each middle toe up, fuck
y'all
If you got a bowl of hash better cash it
You got a satchel, flash it, I'ma take your last hit
And if you spittin' wack shit on the microphone
I'ma snatch it outta your hand so fast I'ma detach it
So if you got a bowl of hash, you better cash it
You got a satchel, flash it, I'ma take your last hit
I'm flabbergasted off two tabs of acid
Threw my baby's mother in the hatchback and latched it
Any disease out there I'm willin to catch it
Slim Shady
All praises to the high and mighty
Slim Shady, naughty rotten rhymer
Mr Eon, illest rhyme dropper
Slim Shady, naughty rotten rhymer
Mr Eon, illest rhyme dropper
Slim Shady
Naughty rotten rhyme, rhyme, rhymer
Mr Eon
Illest rhyme drop, drop, drop, rhyme dropper
4.Weed
Lyricist：M Andrews, L Mcdaniels, Eric Metzer, Robert Tewlow
Weed, weed, what a relief
Where will my eighth a day habit cease？
This an agricultural service announcement
You can treat it and you can douse it
Let us begin now with the plant
The way that it gets to your blunt in hand
See the herb doesn't grow fast enough for man
So for his lye, he makes a master plan
He has bowls to make the weed grow quicker
Through the hydroponic, the weed gets sicker
Twenty-one different soils are dumped
Into the pot in one big lump
So just before it dies, it dries
In my back closet, with no moss and flies
Off with the bud, we cut it, weigh it, and bag it
And there it is for your local street addict
Green and buddy, an ounce condensely packed
Smoke it up and catch a heart attack
Now come on now man let's be for real
You are what you smoke is the way I feel but
The weed and blunt administration'll
Have you thinkin' lye is the perfect combination
See heads be livin' under fear and stress
Wonderin' where they get the best
Now beer and bless can become a part of you
In your cells and dome, this is true
So when the plant is grown, believe it
Sell some to your man or smoke for free kid
Roll it up, and begin seasonin'
Then you sit down, and begin seein' shit
In your body, Blackwoods, a Phillie, a Dutcher
All the need and fiend for another
See any smoke's addictive by any man
Even the brownish rag it's all the same
The Alchemist'll have my ass, strung out
On the Indo and Northern Lights no doubt
Think you got your weed habit on lock？
Tell yourself you gonna try and stop
Smokin' weed and you'll see you need the tree
It's the number one drug on the street
Not coke, 'cause that's a category of dope
But the green leaf, that I smoke with wreath
Now herb brings life and real bad breath
Smoke all your shit and what you got left？
Absolutely high, the sedative
Watchin' the movie Friday, with a spliff
By Chris Tucker, that high motherfucker
For anybody, Northern or Southerner
See how many blunts we gotta pump up fatter？
How many seeds gotta fall in the batter？
How many chickens wanna smoke what you smoke
And how many heads ask for just one toke？
Now they'll consume, the local dread could care less
He'll sell you donkey shit and say it's fresh
For ninety-nine, you suckers
High and Mighty, Mr. Eon, Mighty Mi
Get your own shit, get your own shit man
This my shit, I smoke my shit
You smoke your shit
Then we'll be fine
5.The Half
Lyricist：Erik Meltzer, Robert Tewlow
I encompass, a circumfrence, of your compass
Smokey the Bear's opponent, face atonement
The kama sutra tutor, the Mets rooter
Shorties like my slick finger like ？Bruce Sooter？
You caught in this web of the spider
The High and the Mighty, might be, slightly, violent
It's High-ly the one to leave the sun rayless
Now your style's cheaply made like a pair of Payless
Pick apart your secondary, like Jim Plunkett
Who woulda thunk it？ Titanic-ally, I fuckin sunk it
Hope to have a spot like George and Wheezy
Chocolate peanut butter shit, like Reese's and feces
We sees, the observable, absurdable
My elements enough to make a kid take a pull
No preservatives, but I'm still edible
I need my shit green to remain incredible
You don't know the half
Half of me want it all, the other half-assed
I'm halfway there
I be, death-defyin, within def rhymin
Periphery, I can see the whole vicinity
You don't know the half
Half of me want it all, the other half-assed
I'm halfway there
I be, death-defyin, within def rhymin
Periphery, I can see the whole vicinity
I be a misfit of science, like Andre the Giant
You need to SHUT UP, givin divine solids
Amongst two million, I still be the ill one
Multiply two zillion, I'ma still come
With stupidity, turnin Santa to Satan
Rantin and ravin, while you cave in
See I love the sugar walls, get with my hand though
And waxin off will be the death of me like Rambo
Calisthetics, on any premise, yo well it's
The Gleam Hornet, Eon, uncommon
Like Brian Piccolo's piccolo
Mr. Verbal still remain, like Vinny DelNegro
I shine golden when you see me, like C-3-P-O
I'm PO'd, by a microphone B-O
But me though, need the weed green like ？Grit-o？
Keep that shit tight like Grandpa's Speedos
You don't know the half
Half of me want it all, the other half-assed
I'm halfway there
I be, death-defyin, within def rhymin
Periphery, I can see the whole vicinity
Your pitiful spittle, pales to the hale
In full scale, you're straight monorail
My impact is Amtrak, you toy Lionel
You're Slinkies and Weebles fail to prevail
You couldn't even fuck with my echo
You better let go, desperad', face the barrage
You can't mess with Eric the Derelict
Cherish it, while we smoke on this green relish it
Cause I, huff on Dutches, Felipe couldn't spark
Step into a spot, thinkin I'm a NARC
It's pathetic, my lifestyle is energetic
When I wreck the set, even Leon couldn't Lett it happen
The High induce the hand-clappin
Hallucinations, that you seen from the rappin
My hands stink, from the snatch I be slappin
Step into the Coliseum, what the fuck happened？
You don't know the half
Half of me want it all, the other half-assed
I'm halfway there
I be, death-defyin, within def rhymin
Periphery, I can see the whole vicinity
6.The Meaning
Lyricist：Berger Milo Jason, Meltzer Erik P
High ＆ Mighty back in this
(You think you know what I'm meanin')
I'm just a '86 witness
(You think ya know)
Take it out you suckers, you don't know how I did it
(You think you know what I'm meaning)
Yo yo, you're now a game and don't think you're gonna win it
(You think you know what I'm meaning)
Maybe if I popped Cristal
Said I had a Lexus or a triple beam I'd get a deal
I'd rather speak upon a Maurice Cheeks steal
It's the outta paper, not the caps I peel
I used my independent, money to pay the rent
Remain at hell bent and far from heaven sent
Where they went？ The days when mics got destroyed
B's just boyed, the soft punks got toyed
Unemployed, was a happy-go-lucky MC
And now that's all they fuckin' be bringing to me
Where they went？ The summer concerts on concrete
Elite could put twelve G's in the seat
Now I release the masterpiece of my music
It's '99 and no one could use it
They rather re-use it, the audience confuse it
Take Chuck D's Time Bomb, try to defuse it
I've seen your kind before, you're not original
Ya, you're not original
I've seen your kind before, you're not original
The meaning, ya think you know what I'm meaning
I've seen your kind before, you're not original
Ya, you're not original
I've seen your kind before, you're not original
Ya think you know what I'm meaning
It seems that you gotta come cheap to compete
That's why when I chose to go deep, you go sleep
On a verse, you not gonna get at first
Like O.J. would never ever get a hearse first
When he die, think about the lie over lie
From verse about the hearse of this rap universe
'Cuz radical elements remain eloquent
The repercussions tear right through the fabric
So act quick, kids at the top is lackin'
They tryin' to turn hip hop to just plain rappin'
Let the poppers pop and the breakers break
'Cuz there's just so much of this shit that I can take
Now I can't stand the rain, this shit's all the same
Mr. E, excommunicate your whole game
Back in '88 baby, everything was gleaming
The meaning, you think you know what I'm meaning
I've seen your kind before, you're not original
Ya, you're not original
I've seen your kind before, you're not original
Ya think you know what I'm meaning
Where your skills at, where the ill raps？
Where the new tracks, where your heart at？
Where the new jacks, gettin' contracts？
I got a rhyme that I ain't even wrote yet
Save the drama classes for the masses
Hip hop, glaucoma, baby, I prescribe the glasses
The vision's near-sighted and narrow-minded
The wack shit that you hear is all hate and fight
Take it like harder, fools act retarder
In '98, lyrics just disregarded
Now how hard it be yo to really concentrate
Writin' metaphors, wack shit I annihilate
Now fools comin' through spellin' much gibberish
While Mighty Mi and I stay acknicilous
Raps are bed pan and I be the nurse
Removin' shit wit lyrics that I disperse
Nail ya coffin, 'cuz death's epitome
Ya fate be taken out is most likely
Not likely, we be 'The High ＆ The Mighty'
Stompin' out crews, the team of the '90's
I've seen your kind before, you're not original
Not original
I've seen your kind before, you're not original
The meaning, you think you know what I'm meaning
I've seen your kind before, you're not original
Ya not original, ya not
I've seen your kind before, you're not original
You think, you know what I'm meaning
Gang Starr, shoulda been number one to me
And D.O.C., shoulda been number one to me
Live Team, shoulda been number one to me
The Disc Masters, shoulda been number one to me
Show ＆ A., shoulda been number one to me
The Crown Rulers, shoulda been number one to me
And Dilated, shoulda been number one to me
KMD, shoulda been number one to me
The Tough Crew, shoulda been number one to me
And JVC, shoulda been number one to me
The Main Source, shoulda been number one to me
The Arsonists, shoulda been number one to me
7.Hot Spittable
You know, baby, I've been thinkin' about you a lot
You know I've been doin' a lot of private things on my own
Just me in the bathroom by myself
You know, a little hands on experience
You know, just a little thing for myself
Yo, I'm six million dollars, rappin' like I'm Steve Austin
Made of steel, diamonds glitter on the Ampex reel
Superchargin' my brain cells, glowin' extra large
And my Afro sheen, skin color should be green
Girls in the backseat with thongs stuck between they booboo
I'm rappin' through you, on sidelines he's talkin' to you
My finesse in Bat mobiles, cruise with Adam West
Down Bronx streets and project buildings holdin' flashlights
Daily newsies, pull your maxi's out, in the movies
Make you think fast, rub powder on your diaper rash
Catch you with stomachs out, bumps out and Jimmy Craig'n
You still be beggin' with that body shaped, like an egg'n
Rhinoceros funk with panties piled in the trunk
Playboy books with Black Tail, my boy, readin' Hustler
I pull up with no Benz, just a Plymouth Duster
Cruisin' around town, naked bumpin' James Brown
Underwear light blue, scratchin' balls with hands down
You see me comin', passin' rappers like I'm Mr. Drummond
On your street pee, your colored socks, smell like feet
Timberland boots walk in Bentley's with my space suits
Astronaut sneakers standin' hard by the speakers
We got butlers with maids, condos built in Brazil
Chrysler Cordovans, Monte Carlos on the hill
The raw ingredients with hands on experience
With Nissan trucks worth a hundred thousand bucks
We got butlers with maids, condos built in Brazil
Chrysler Cordovans, Monte Carlos on the hill
The raw ingredients with hands on experience
With Nissan trucks worth a hundred thousand bucks
What's he talking about？
I don't get it
Hmm, oh
Yo I bust my own, ready to feel thrusts
My lust explodes in loads feelin' like Big Pun
The crush rushin' to phones for episodes, atone for sex
And videos, layin' at home, that's stamped with X
(Hahaha)
You feelin' me yet？ Well then I, guess I'll commence
With my five niggaz rubbin', resort-in to self lovin'
White blood runnin'
(Yo, well, that's some really nasty shit)
Oh, oh, well, I wouldn't y'all thinkin' I'm a sadomasochist
I'm past the list of niggaz who masturbate
I flash my wrists, when there's no brothers to pass the gate
Holdin' myself down when I'm on the clit
I've got gadgets like I'm fuckin' James Bond and shit
Flippin' myself, hittin' the spots, keepin' it hot
Got the lights off, porn's on, ready to rock, fukkit
'Oh, what what', I praise myself
And I haven't went blind, I've got days of health
Even amazed at the stealth speed my hand flicks
I represent for chicks and niggaz
With they hands on they shit
Hah, you got experience？
We got butlers with maids, condos built in Brazil
Chrysler Cordovas, Monte Carlos on the hill
The raw ingredients with hands on experience
With Nissan trucks worth a hundred thousand bucks
We got butlers with maids, condos built in Brazil
Chrysler Cordovas, Monte Carlos on the hill
The raw ingredients with hands on experience
With Nissan trucks worth a hundred thousand bucks
Yo, yo, yo, it's Hand Solo, one time again
I'm no jerk my friends, just for dick again and again
I put a towel up on the floor
For easy post-cleanup, get up, close my door
So my roommate won't bust me
Like my mom did, and my dad did
And my college roommate did
With jerkers in my palm
That's why now, I do it dry
So that's the set up, I tilt my head up
Put my fingers on my nipple
Swish around my pre-cum dribble
Rippin' epidermis 'cause it's easy to be
Shootin' loads to go to bed, 'cause it makes me sleepy
Titties on my mind, close to ejaculation
Anal perspiration, heavy inhalation
I strive for the shoulders, in Boulder Colorado
Shoot on walls and toilet stalls is my motto
It's like that y'all y'all and you don't dare stop stop
I grab my cock until the cum drops
Mr. Eon, you got hands on experience？
(You know I do)
Grab the mic and get delirious
Callouses on my hand, both left and right
Vaseline, magazine and my lovin' hand with a tight
Slip, put my wood in a vice grip
And then Janet Jack-me with them fine ass lips
I spew goo in the form of Elmer's Glue
Up in my mind, a pornography who's who
Channel 35 receiver, dick reliever
Spank to the thought of me shavin' beavers
I'm Mr. Miyagi, wax on, wax off
I even jerked at dinner on the tablecloths
Paper towel napkins, tissue's not the issue
I know you be fearin' this hands on experience
So there you have it
Live from the perverted minds
Of Kool Keith, what what, Bobbito and Mr. Eon
Another case of hands on experience
Put your left hand on, pull your left hand off
Put your right hand on and we jerk it till it's soft
We do the knuckle shuffle till the cum run out
That's what it's all about
That's what it's all about
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