Mic Check

FELIX THUNDER:
Loddie doddie the rhymes are like a shotty
Automatically spittin' that shit to get the
Party jumpin'
Pumpin' like a work out the trunk
Torpedo flows’ll get your battleship sunk
Puttin' the stank on it like los angeles skunk
Test your luck if you thinkin' you can handle this punk
Go 'head
Catchin' lumps while i’m pitchin' this
These three strikes
I do the psycho boy please
It’s the picture perfect verses in the framework
Makin' y’all knuckles feel the pain’s just a perk
Yes, the steve urkel man
I did that
I’ma tell you how your girl is
When i get back
Jk lol have that coke and a smile
I’m just big dick ballin' and i’m pokin' your style
It’s that psychotropic dopeness in the opus
No hocus pocus, your boy’s just focused, ah
P-TEK:
Focused? they called me an egghead
But now my brain’s on drugs -- fried
Scrambled
And hard boiled like an asian gunfight flick
You punch I kick
Bonzai!
I could hit a fleck of dust off
A bug’s eyelid
Bug-eyed and mindless
I’ll fuck you up right quick
Aw man just the luck i get
Tryin' to justify my thug
To some uptight prick
Aw whacha want a punchline bitch?
I’ma fly ya to the ma’fuckin' isle of Cyprus
«i don’t know karate but i know
Kar-azay»
Brand spankin new
And makin hits is easy
Keepin' it phatter than bacon bits and cream cheese
Jeez louise
We shakin' shit for sheezy
You wanna be fly?
Here comes the bee sting
We uma you the ishii
We gut you
Cut to:
Live on deck Felix Thunder and p-teK
Keep the gears hittin' switchin'
We spittin for life
Live on deck Felix Thunder and p-teK
We gon' be there in a minute
It’s just a mic check
Keep the gears hittin' switchin'
We spittin' for life
We’ll gon' be there in a minute
It’s just a mic
FELIX THUNDER:
Check the bomb collabo'
Lettin' off a salvo
Iron Man and War Machine
Word to John Favreau
I pick the vocals out as if they had an afro
Make my activator with a wire through your asshole
We camp lazlo
On beats like this
Dumb stupid animation when we spit that gift
Two gifts that spit
That’s us in a nutshell
Couple nuts shellin' out the hits like a pump hell
Fire and brimstone
You wonder where we been known
We masterin' these classics while you sweatin' out a ringtone homes
I’m gonna go chris brown when i bring it
Beat your face up with my buick smash your window and sing it
Like deuces
To wack rappers and producers
And give these haters every drop of my creative juices
But all jokes aside respect to p-teK
Hip-hop 'til we’re deaf or death or mic checks
P-TEK:
I’m somewhere between Nicki Minaj and Dessa
Or Prince and Nas
Mos Def-initely
A lotta pressure
And Mr. Kanye West
This album’s got it’s guests already
But don’t stress
I’ll getcha on the next one
Etcetra etcetra
You’re gonna have to pause the records
At the shop
Cuz we just bought out the hip-hop section
You’re like ross from friends was
A sitcom that just got moved to Fox --
Aww, cancelled
Now it’s safe to say we murdered this track
Cut it into little pieces put the words in a black
Plastic trash bag
It’s underneath the dirt in Nevada
And orange you glad I didn’t say banana?!
Or say this shit is
B-a-n-a-n-a anyway
I’m makin' ya half-buzzed
Takin' it back because
This radio rap sucks
Y’all are my dawgs
So roll over Beethoven
I’m the baller
Make ya wait til I throw it
Woof!