Released: July 26, 1988
Songwriter: Eric B. Rakim
Producer: Rakim Eric B.
[Verse 1]
How could I keep my composure?
When all sorts of thoughts fought for exposure?
Release, then veins in the brains increase
When I let off, make a wish and blow the smoke off my piece
Unloadin', unfold and the rhymes are explodin'
And the mic that I'm holding's golden
Cordless 'cause the wire caught fire like a fuse
Gunpowder and the slightest bruise is a friction
The outcome is near, so listen, here's a brief description:
A boom and flame and smoke, ashes are dust to dust
Contact is compact when I bust
MC's are now in a massacre, a disaster, a master at fashion, I
Beat to death, to a pulp 'til it can't pump
Speakers ain't sayin' nothin', now the ball can thump
As I'm lookin', I stand like brick buildings in Brooklyn
Then the stage is took, then
Havoc struck that could product a holocaust
Keep in touch the mic when you're holdin' yours
Huffin' and puffin' and slobbin' and droolin'
Nothing's pumpin', who do you think ya foolin'?
Tommy Tucker? The neighborhood sucker?
What you oughta do... is pick up a tempo
From what I invent, so hard not to bite, but you can't prevent, so
You start to kidnap, I watch a kid rap
When he get off, he know he shouldn't have did that
Minor, old-timer, weak rhymer, stay in liner
You won't be inclined to go so, yo
Maybe later, you're gonna be
But for now, you're almost one of me
Now, the immature imitation's taken from originations
Made by changin' and a little arrangin'
So, perform, if ya still ain't warm, maybe after a roast
By the host with the most, it's a Musical Massacre
[Verse 2]
Never tired, don't even try it, keep quiet
Like a storm, you could rain, but I riot
Remains and gains power just like The Towering Inferno
The beat's gonna burn, so
Distance is kept, you better watch your step
Volunteers go from here and get
Ya out of the flames, pre-heat, the temperature change
Anywhere within the range of Celsius
Fahrenheit on the mic might melt, see it
Burns soon as it's felt, see, it's
Torchin', scorchin', mic's pipin' hot
Steamin', who's schemin'? Nah, ya not
James Brown must've been dusted, disgusted
Now he can't be trusted
Embalmed with fluids, static can cause explosion
In fact, impact's closin' in
Time was up, so I release a time bomb
Beat gives me a heat-stroke, but I rhyme calm
Pull out the tool, sometimes I wanna break fool...
But I was cool like one in the chamber
Let's play a game of rhymin' roulette
Then put me up to your brain, then name a rhyme about ya clout
One mistake... ya out
If this is demonstration, it can't be the same show
Maybe you're too fly, somewhere over the rainbow
Courage, heart, and brain, you need rhymes
Turn on your mic, snap your fingers three times... you're gone
Or the story won't end the same, and you'll feel the flame
The potion was weak, make another antidote
What's the science? Why can't ya quote?
Elements for musical intelligence, rhymes are irrelevant
No development, and that settles it
Go manufacture a match, send me after a blast
Of a master that has to make Musical Massacre!
How could I keep my composure?
When all sorts of thoughts fought for exposure?
Release, then veins in the brains increase
When I let off, make a wish and blow the smoke off my piece
Unloadin', unfold and the rhymes are explodin'
And the mic that I'm holding's golden
Cordless 'cause the wire caught fire like a fuse
Gunpowder and the slightest bruise is a friction
The outcome is near, so listen, here's a brief description:
A boom and flame and smoke, ashes are dust to dust
Contact is compact when I bust
MC's are now in a massacre, a disaster, a master at fashion, I
Beat to death, to a pulp 'til it can't pump
Speakers ain't sayin' nothin', now the ball can thump
As I'm lookin', I stand like brick buildings in Brooklyn
Then the stage is took, then
Havoc struck that could product a holocaust
Keep in touch the mic when you're holdin' yours
Huffin' and puffin' and slobbin' and droolin'
Nothing's pumpin', who do you think ya foolin'?
Tommy Tucker? The neighborhood sucker?
What you oughta do... is pick up a tempo
From what I invent, so hard not to bite, but you can't prevent, so
You start to kidnap, I watch a kid rap
When he get off, he know he shouldn't have did that
Minor, old-timer, weak rhymer, stay in liner
You won't be inclined to go so, yo
Maybe later, you're gonna be
But for now, you're almost one of me
Now, the immature imitation's taken from originations
Made by changin' and a little arrangin'
So, perform, if ya still ain't warm, maybe after a roast
By the host with the most, it's a Musical Massacre
[Verse 2]
Never tired, don't even try it, keep quiet
Like a storm, you could rain, but I riot
Remains and gains power just like The Towering Inferno
The beat's gonna burn, so
Distance is kept, you better watch your step
Volunteers go from here and get
Ya out of the flames, pre-heat, the temperature change
Anywhere within the range of Celsius
Fahrenheit on the mic might melt, see it
Burns soon as it's felt, see, it's
Torchin', scorchin', mic's pipin' hot
Steamin', who's schemin'? Nah, ya not
James Brown must've been dusted, disgusted
Now he can't be trusted
Embalmed with fluids, static can cause explosion
In fact, impact's closin' in
Time was up, so I release a time bomb
Beat gives me a heat-stroke, but I rhyme calm
Pull out the tool, sometimes I wanna break fool...
But I was cool like one in the chamber
Let's play a game of rhymin' roulette
Then put me up to your brain, then name a rhyme about ya clout
One mistake... ya out
If this is demonstration, it can't be the same show
Maybe you're too fly, somewhere over the rainbow
Courage, heart, and brain, you need rhymes
Turn on your mic, snap your fingers three times... you're gone
Or the story won't end the same, and you'll feel the flame
The potion was weak, make another antidote
What's the science? Why can't ya quote?
Elements for musical intelligence, rhymes are irrelevant
No development, and that settles it
Go manufacture a match, send me after a blast
Of a master that has to make Musical Massacre!
- Follow the Leader (1988)
- Paid in Full
- I Ain’t No Joke
- My Melody
- Follow the Leader
- I Know You Got Soul
- Microphone Fiend
- Eric B. Is President
- Juice (Know the Ledge)
- Don’t Sweat the Technique
- As the Rhyme Goes On
- Lyrics of Fury
- In The Ghetto
- Mahogany
- Let the Rhythm Hit ’Em
- Move the Crowd
- What’s On Your Mind
- No Competition
- Paid in Full (Seven Minutes of Madness – The Coldcut Remix)
- Casualties of War
- The Punisher
- No Omega
- Eric B. Is on the Cut
- Musical Massacre
- Kick Along