Maestro Fresh Wes - Fine Tune Da Mic Lyrics
Chorus x2[maestro] fine tune da mic[showbiz] engineer wont you check it[maestro] its the brother maestro[showbiz] and showbiz is going to wreck it[showbiz]So here I come (ha), so here I go (yo)And when you hear (huh), you know its brother showI like to rock a hundred miles, but you know Im far from runningListen to the kicks and the snares, you know its stunningIm coming, I came, Im only here to damage yaI left my city and my hometown to fly to canadaTo get a peace of mind and make beats on the lowAnd shows got a flow, a combo with maestroFresh wes, I never fess, big up to diamond dA.g. and my partner lord finesse, cant forget buckwildPeople know my style, dont play me like a childOr your fam be sitting in the front aisle, of a funeral homePut two to your dome, so pass the microphoneThe s-h-o-w-b-i-z from 1-6-3, third and a-v-eThe trump cant see meLick for lick, I change cars like brother cange kicksAnd pick up chiocks and take them to the flicksSo dont try to play big willieIll smoke you with a cripsy hundred dollar billAnd make the chump feel silly, huhYou cant understand where my heads atWhile I made a record talking about liking my pockets fatAnd not flat, not flatAnd punks couldnt take it if you had ten gatsAnd girls play my lap bcause I made soul clapI guess its like that when you got a little stackChorus x2[maestro fresh wes]Well Im crushing, blood starts gushing when Im bum rushingMe and the mic is like startsky and hutchinNot a plumber but Im guarenteed to fix farrahs faucetNo I never ever lost it, now imma toss itGet off it, imma write, Ill role you like a tight spliffI might get hyper just like positive on a night shiftFresh wes is the smoothest show and proverLike j. degar hoover, I make a ? ? ? manouverAint no lookin back, I throw a jam at the sugar shackAnd I can make the mack say, jack bring my hooker backIm getting nuff props like black moon, I never wrote a wack tuneSons take my album cover straight to the bathroomLive like a wire, mc for hireRapper all admire, but retire, when I ahnil-Late, deducts, and take da bucksWho the hell needs luck, I got it made and getting paid to fluc-Uate my lyrics, my uncategorical, metaphorical flowMakes you want to hear it, so dont compare itYou cant come near it, I know you fear itYou want to jeer it in the front rowcause you know me and show can flowWe go head to head, toe to toe and blow for blowWe say the kind of rhymes to make the party people listenCatching mad wreck on the mic mechanismChorus x4Outro [maestro fresh wes]Yeah, thats how we doing it yoBig up to my dj, ltdLoves to devast, never hesitate to motivateFarly flex, relfex, mvp yoThats how we swing it in the studioWord up fresh wes, 1994Im blowing up uhhIm blowing up yeahYeahI cant forget my man chrisMy man mac behind the fat tracksAnd my man show b-i-zAka mr. (f-a-t), we out
