Mic To Mic (Radio)

Big Kwam - “Mic to Mic”
[Emcee(s): Big Kwam]
[Producer(s): The Creators (Juliano & Si Spex)]

[Intro: Samples]
“Yeah!”
“Come on!”
“Feels great!”
“Yeah!”

[Verse 1: Big Kwam and (Samples)]
The platinum-selling rap legend that hit your melon
Thoughts compelling, weed-inhaling, verbal rebellion
Kwam be extra abrasive to the texture
Ill scheme, to-root connector wrecking your sector (“Yeah!”)
I stay fresh-dipped, a life-or-death script
My vocal clefts rip collarbones and hips if you slip
Got styles you couldn’t figure yet, intrigue like
Naked silhouettes behind mosquito nets—you feel me yet? (“Yeah!”)
God damn it, buddha’d eyes be chinky-slanted
Hard as granite, shatter your rhyme like it’s ceramics
While you slept in hammocks, my vocal aerodynamics
Ran through your barracks, shining like 24-carats
Lyrically speaking, my heat-seeking shot repeating
Cocked to rock weaklings when dropped on block meetings
It’s a fact I twist backs, spliffs from stacks
Limp wrists will crack with this swift gift I pack (“Yeah!”)
The pain-inflicter burning niggas ‘til they blister
Split the Richter, tweeters blown on transistors
Kwam is stoned, a Don like Corleone
Spots I got sewn, you get knocked, ock, it’s on (“Yeah!”)
Utilizing math, following drafts, I craft
Mics with skin grafts when I blast breaks in half. A threat
Like bomb scares, the Kwam fear no emcee
Long as I’m here, grenade-launching verbal warfare

[Hook: Big Kwam, (Ad-Libs), and {Samples}]
Lyrically, Kwam {“Yeah!”} splits your wig. Me wack, kid?
How you fig’? (Huh) {“Uh!”} You must be smoking dust or worse (Ha!)
You need to reverse and disperse {“Feels great!”}. Mic
To mic, toe to toe, you’re bound to drop first {“Yeah!”} (What?)
Lyrically, Kwam {“Uh!”} splits your wig (Ha!). Me wack, kid?
How you fig’? (Uh huh) {“Yeah!”} You must be smoking dust or worse (What?)
You need to reverse and disperse {“Feels great!”}. Mic
To mic, toe to toe, you’re bound to drop first

[Verse 2: Big Kwam and (Samples)]
I got
A rapport with weed spots and liquor stores, my mind
State be tore out the doorframe and more
Bars remain critical, link verbal to visuals
Smoked-out individual blessed by herbal rituals (“Yeah!”)
Kwam be the one-man army, sipping Dom P, and Twan?
He put the essence of an emcee upon me (“One love”)
Armed with the blueprint, I do dent your two-cent raps
That need improvement. The chocolate got my crew bent (“Feels great!”)
I’m trailblazing, brain-grazing, and hell-raising
My mood swings like clubs from schizophrenic cavemen
I can’t be snuffed, bum-rushed, or handcuffed
When this man puff, he drop rhymes like dandruff (“Yeah!”)
Fronting theatrics get slapped quick with rap hits
That leave backs split and clap shit just like gat clips
I’m all that plus chips and all that other good shit
Intricate like Arabic script written in toothpicks, cliques (“Yeah!”)
Under bombardment, the sergeant with a squadrant
Making papers (“Uh!”) like Charmin, I’m harming
The frail (“Yeah!”), knock the wind out your sails, wings clipped
Like nails when I wait to exhale (“Uh!”) the Holy Grail
I’ll lamp on the meridian with a billion
Adaptable styles reminiscent of amphibians
It ain’t hard to get your retard squad charged up for
Three bars. Believe me, god, I could pull your card
At will. The facts still remain my contacts real
Wax and seal, emcees decompose in the Catskills

[Interlude: Big Kwam and (Sample)]
Motherfucker! (“Yeah!”) Coming through, ‘96 is all mine. What?!? What?!?

[Hook: Big Kwam, (Ad-Libs), and {Samples}]
Lyrically, Kwam {“Yeah!”} splits your wig. (Yeah!) Me wack, kid?
How you fig’? (What?) {“Uh!”} You must be smoking dust or worse (Ha!)
You need to reverse and disperse {“Feels great!”}. Mic
To mic, toe to toe, you’re bound to drop first {“Yeah!”} (No doubt)
Lyrically, Kwam {“Uh!”} splits your wig (Ha!). Me wack, kid?
How you fig’? (What?) {“Yeah!”} You must be smoking dust or worse (Aha!)
You need to reverse and disperse {“Feels great!”}. Mic
To mic, toe to toe, you’re bound to drop first

[Outro: Big Kwam and (Samples)]
Yeah
Herb-smokers (“Yeah!”), it’s all love, yeah
Young and reckless—what?—it’s all love, what? (“Yeah!”)
Money-makers, it’s all love, hah
Blindside Records (“Feels great!”), it’s all love, yeah
Ghetto strugglers (“Yeah!”), it’s all love, what?
Mars, A.K.A Smithy, let’s get (“Yeah!”)
Spliffy. My man D upstate behind the steel
Gate, when you get home, it’s all love, what? (“Yeah!”)