lirik lagu you dont want it (street) – icon the mic king
[intro: icon the mic king]
i don’t understand why all these cats think they can battle me. see, i got punchlines that better than most of these cats’ existence. it’s like, to me, these emcees out here, they’re nothing. they’re just rapping in little circles for no reason. i mean, you don’t want it. come on now
[verse 1: icon the mic king]
stop thinking you want conflict. icon cripple your spine
i’ll wave my hands in the air and cause a ripple in time
with a simple flick of the wrist, you’ll just forget to exist
i’ll reach and grab your soul, send you into abyss
my punchline kick back—no one wants to stand behind me
i kick rhymes hard
they hit me in the back of the head. translated in chinese
the impact when i hit the planet was your cue to exit, homie
i’m the illest emcee left. that’s what my reflection told me
i create these visual images hidden for scolding foes
and laughing’s the last visual outcome—sensory overload
i p-ssed havoc through mathematics on m-ss transit
as habit has it, it’s a pattern for me to smash b-st-rds
i hate precipitation, so what i’ve done to stunt doublers:
reverse rain to a point where god stands with an umbrella
i’ll soak you with kerosene, force you to play with matchsticks
you say you’re sparking through the christmas to pack gifts
i’m an omniscient ent-ty
to even think to be in battle, i’m slowly causing your molecule
to dissipate. spit invigorates
then we integrate several different states
[?]. solid, liquid, and gas
flying bodies spitting possessed with our godly missions of wrath
you really want it with a ravenous savage that’ll bust hands in an actor
while you stick to basics and spit complacent
and damage you b-st-rds, you average f-ggots who can’t handle the graphic
p-ssionate fashion, i’m mathing for rappers (shut the f-ck up [?])
i’m sick of sharing the stage with special olympic hopefuls
if you call me to rock, i’ma reach through the phone and choke you
you getting burned. you can’t perceive the consequence
when i punch a hole in your skull and irrigate your stream of consciousness
[hook: icon the mic king]
i’ll be the first to crack your jaw and have you laugh it off
just ask the last who brawled (stupid, you don’t want it)
you’ll be pegged while reflecting your teeth if you ever test [?]
when icon’s wrecking a beat (b-tch made, you don’t want it)
i’m the type to smash your face and then crack the raps amazing
i’ll blast the cats you came with (emcees, you don’t want it)
i’m from illadel, where suckers like you get laughed at
and since you think you want it, you going home in a trash bag (you don’t want it)
[verse 2: icon the mic king]
the sinister minister administer limit, demanded
to finish any apprenticing just by spitting. the illest
inmates who sitting to give it in their minutes
(icon, that’s way too much for them. give ‘em what they used to)
hearing you play with the mic nothing more than a waste of my life
that time you take to recite, i’m in front, hating and trife
you stutter through acapellas, can’t get words spoken right
cars are quick to my autopsy, but can’t rock an open mic
you say this is obscene the way that i block teams
run in studios, stab words in the air or in a pop screen
emcees hate to see that the angelz are so hostile
think quick to my eyes when you rap—they can be your roll/role model
this energy ent-ty’s into injuring enemies
giving uppercuts to rearrange emcees’ facial structures
to where they can taste the bittersweet memories
the thunderous god will have you all tumbling off
so you bite my rhymes, then throw up ‘cause you can’t stomach the thought
my savage faction is smashing facts
like i’m abandoning plan of action and have to regroup
i spit with laser intensity. cats don’t come to battle
they come to get their eyes fixed and tattoos removed
if you ever mention my name as an emcee you want to fight with
i’ll shove those words in your mouth ‘til they clog in your throat and sinus
so you when you talk about me later, you’ll say, “icon’s the nicest”
if it was up to me, you would have died before you ever grew a muscle
but even celestial beings have law. be happy that jesus love you
i’m the mic king, fool, the one y’all bite tongues around
and by the time i’m gone, you’re bilingual. don’t try and touch the ground
you not prepared for what i sneak in sleek design
line, outline, punchline, edge line
hole line, in line, your line, headline
drown line, you line, in line, your line, bloodline, streamline
now read between the “lines”
i’m always blazing it with zeeby zeeb laying hits
if don’t you know i’m the best by now, f-ck you. i’m sick of saying it
[hook: icon the mic king]
i’ll be the first to crack your jaw and have you laugh it off
just ask the last who brawled (stupid, you don’t want it)
you’ll be pegged while reflecting your teeth if you ever test [?]
when icon’s wrecking a beat (b-tch made, you don’t want it)
i’m the type to smash your face and then crack the raps amazing
i’ll blast the cats you came with (emcees, you don’t want it)
i’m from illadel, where suckers like you get laughed at
and since you think you want it, you going home in a trash bag (you don’t want it)
[outro: icon the mic king]
icon the mic king, fallen angelz, zeeby zeeb on the beat. f-ck y’all. you don’t want it
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