(Take that microphone from that kid and heat it up)

I keep the mic hot I heat it up kid

I keep the mic hot I heat it up (x2)

Mic check y'all

Then throw it to the floor

The crowd wanted more so I came in the door

The great Rakim papermates to the pen

Knowledge is born and the light strikes again

Elements burst and gave birth to the first

Get the pen from the nurse and hook the mic up first

When it absolutely positively has to be there on time

I deliver a rhyme

The heckler of hip hop, hop to this one

I got more kid, they hate to miss one

Style got jazz and the crowd's out of control

Cause I've got the mic and I've got the soul

New York's own microphone technician

Thoughts'll give 'em visions

Style'll make you listen

Devastates the ear, my opponents can't see me

I gave 'em directions, but wrote it in graffiti

But they wanna know my m.o. ease back though

They want the exact flow, then study my steelo

Sketch the skit, but they still can't see what I did

I heat the mic up kid

I keep the mic hot, I heat it up kid

I keep the mic hot, I heat it up (x4)

Then I explode with a song with a original form

Or I'll perform it at high mode, they want the code

Destroyed the blueprints and documents and hits

Crews been, um, looking for clues ever since

Beats start brewing up, rhymes is rough

Stages and microphones self-destruct

And when you thought you had the format down pat

You get kicked back to the doormat with that

Cause I've got a high tech style with know-how

Select the file watch the crowd go wild

Bad beats to bless the females' finesse

Points shot stress causing cardiac arres