HOOK: WE THE PROPHETS OF THE MIC-THE MESIAH SCRIPTURES WITH WHAT WE WRITE-IN THE MIDST OF NIGHT WE BRING LIGHT-TURN BATTLES TO REAL FIGHTS-AND IT AINT COCKY BUT THE SHIT WE BEEN THROUGH-IT AINT COCKINESS WE ARROGANT TO KNOW WE BETTER THAN YOU.
META 5
STILL provoking-violence after our short oath-of-silence
we've broken the boundaries like coastal-islands
we've been played like the stroke-of-violins
STILL bringing flames to the board, MODS betta tote-the-hydrants
We’re STILL Known-as-Tyrants, with skills that’ve Grown-as-Giants
Blow-tha-Sirens, We’re STILL tha *Main Cats* like Clones-of-Lions
STILL got Skill Stacked-with-Flames, put Lighter’s to our Heads, you can’t Match-our-Brains
able to Adapt-to-Change, if your not Feelin’ us, you must have Gaps-in-Veins
We STILL act-the-same although you cats-is-lame
So hot the sun's-jealous, bring your umbrellas, prepare for our massive-reign
The truth in rap-is-missin, so you bastards-is-fiction, but here, STILL the facts-remain
STILL behaving like stingy Olympic torch runners, we'll never pass-the-flames
STILL Crackin’-Frames until their Sections-is-Shattered, don’t even Mention-tha-Masters
our Verses are Blessed so don’t be Testin’-our-Chapters, better Pray, that’s like Messin’-with-Raptors
STILL leavin’ Competition Swept, so save ya Breathe, your Less-then-a-Factor
STILL can’t be fucked with, you Rodents can’t get tha Best-of-these-Badgers
STILL leaving opposing crews left-in-disasters, we decided to return-with-vengeance
STILL overheating like we simply burning-our-engines
Just realizing our greatness, fuck sleepers, were no longer yearning-attention
STILL nicknamed the flamethrowers, heat-holders, fuck it, even the furnace-convention
Open Mic Project formed-with-lines & Perfected-Minds, There's No Question
A Quick Lesson to All Those, Who Dare To Oppose, Emceeing is My Profession

HOOK: WE THE PROPHETS OF THE MIC-THE MESIAH SCRIPTURES WITH WHAT WE WRITE-IN THE MIDST OF NIGHT WE BRING LIGHT-TURN BATTLES TO REAL FIGHTS-AND IT AINT COCKY BUT THE SHIT WE BEEN THROUGH-IT AINT COCKINESS WE ARROGANT TO KNOW WE BETTER THAN YOU.

WORD PERFECT
rap intellegent with intellect-they’s already a META 5.... so WERDPERFECT's the 6th element-
flow melevolent- with war intent- m.c.’s couldnt rock if they were a periodic table ingraved in cement-LADIES AND GENTS-may i present-the ghost writer you couldnt afford if you LAID~AWAY PAYED in incriments-
may i introduce to you the OPEN MIC PROJECT !!!!!!!
2 m.c.’s gifted....with futuristic literary capabilities-to use telapthy...mentally-punchlines that are to real for t.v.-cause listenen TO them alone can cause hearing disability-
with agility-from similies to sililiquies- we deliver a hit-3 words that leave your proctologist screaming “you aint shit”.
and that aint it-but even off of 8 hits -of X and laytex you couldnt fuck with my writ-let alone swim a mile in the tsoonami of rift i spit-
ME and META 5- the world most wanted like iraqian spies- that maid the twin towers collapse from the sky-collide-while i write in anthrax his sintax scripted in syanide-so ill we could infect coputer viruses and make them overide-
the y2k wont a threat... but since you survived- realive OPEN MIC the next warning from now till 3005.
rip many rhymes- through your lateral and logical lines-area codes and regions-in the name of jesus- rage holy war - sacrifice these demon- in the name of our lord cause you wouldnt be ill during flu season-exposing myself like drunk flashers-your only mic check was a wrong answer- dissed us and got left looking like a fag who's a gay basher-
i keeps lively my track boost adrenaline by the 50cc’s- maken me medically your illest m.c.’s i.v.-
spitten a flow in the name of MOSES tellen wanna be’s- to fallow me- split oceans in 1 subtracted by 3- then between our 2 flows drown them in a lyrical sea-
hold the heat and unleash something twice scary-rape the virgin mary-battle jesus and win then victory over satan with sin-playen russian rullet with the BIG BANG THEORY-
call a lyrical war and you dont want none-screamen nine eleven till we come- then dialed nine one,one-
hell hath no fury then for when a gasoline m.c. teamed with the match- if i cant kill you on earth i’ll kill myself and see you in hell for the rematch.
HOOK: WE THE PROPHETS OF THE MIC-THE MESIAH SCRIPTURES WITH WHAT WE WRITE-IN THE MIDST OF NIGHT WE BRING LIGHT-TURN BATTLES TO REAL FIGHTS-AND IT AINT COCKY BUT THE SHIT WE BEEN THROUGH-IT AINT COCKINESS WE ARROGANT TO KNOW WE BETTER THAN YOU.