(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 arrest
Mics too hot for you to told in your hands
Now they sell 'em with fifteen