Microphone Pon Cok

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The Lady of Rage

Robin Yvette Allen (born June 11, 1968), better known by her stage name The Lady of Rage, is an American rapper and actress best known for collaborations with several Death Row Records artists, including Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dogg on the seminal albums The Chronic and Doggystyle. She has been described as "one of the most skillful female MCs" with a "mastery of flow" and "hard-core lyrics". more »

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Yeah
(Microphone pon cok)
(Keep it lock) Rap on the flow
Yo, all the niggas know the steelo
On the regular, on the flow
Yo, know the steelo
On the regular
(Keep it lock) On the flow, yo, yo
Yo, niggas know the steelo
Rock on the regular
(The pon cok lyricist) Yo

It be the dawnin' of a new era
Check the terror of the clever style (clever)
Shinin' in any type of weather
Hail, sleet or hurricanes, monsoon rains when I rule fools
Even if they pack tools they can't loosen my screws
My style's crisper, stealthy, done shit in the whisper, down low
Filthy steelo, not the bullshit with the glitter
I glimmer like a nova, roll over
Horizons in a Range Rover (right)
You can't survive even with luck from a clover
Four leafs
I prefer the seven leaves of Budapest cess
The potent strain like Dristan mist I reach your brains
I got more flavors than ingredients in delis
Makin' all these niggas jelly 'cause I'm strong to the max, in fact
I can wait for fifty years 'fore I bust (I bust)
And then erupt and crush MC's without no ring rust
I be gettin' stupid when I rock
Microphone's pon cok (hey)
Keep it lock

Microphone pon cok, keep it lock
From the corner to the crevices, straight 'round di block
Like a locksmith, me lock it down, lock
Everything cut down and everything stop (chah)
From the boy everything must flock
Humming pon di mic and di place run hot (that's right)
Dubplate, we ah lick it and stop
X amount ah lyrics from straight mi head top (let me take it from here, uh)

Excusez-moi, baby paw
I'm hittin' harder than your left jaw can withstand so withdraw
I likes it rough, rugged and raw (and what?)
A microphone fiend, super supreme
A fool I pity like my girl Nikk D
I let off steam when I'm wreckin' shit
I'm a force to be reckoned with
Cause definite dysfunctions
You couldn't connect to my shit with conjunctions
Get eaten like luncheon meat (ha), capisce?
Not one can compete, roll with the elite squad and we roll deep
Rock from alpha to omega
Lay your cards on the table, get verbally disabled
You best, pick up a thesaurus (ha)
Your shit is bull like Taurus (ha)
This ain't your day so don't try to play Morris (I what?)
I bust backs with lyrics that break bones like bats
Crack my knuckles, get touched by the untouchable (uh)
I be one of the baddest, put up your dukes 'cause I'm a hazard (what?)
You're gonna need a miracle like Jesus of Nazareth
To save your from disastrous repercussions 'cause we be bustin'
Dogg Pound much too much and them niggas still don't give a f*ck so
Ha, duck down, ha, rappers are in danger
You don't want to feel the wrath of Rage, there's too much anger
I'll rearrange ya whole train of thinkin', what was ya thinkin'?
My loose lips got your ships sinkin', you're dead and stinkin'
You're did (did), you're done (done)
Lyrical murderer remain number one
That's how it is, son

Microphone pon cok, keep it lock
From the corner to the crevices, straight 'round di block
Like a locksmith, me lock it down, lock
Everything cut down and everything stop (chah)
From the boy everything must flock
Humming pon di mic and di place run hot
Dubplate, we ah lick it and stop
X amount ah lyrics from straight from mi head top 

Mi microphone pon cok, lock and key
Smack dab in the middle of my pocket, baby, you don't wanna knock with me
'Cause I'm not to be fucked with, you can't touch this
The French I speak'll spread you out like mustard, I'm luscious
The Dutch is extra large like deluxe is, yo, bust this
You don't wanna clutched within my clutches
It'll be a rainy night in Augustus
Georgia on your mind?
Nah, slaughterin' these rhymes
At any given moment at any given time
If anyone think that I'm lyin', show your stuff
Where you want it? Head or gut?
I'm thinkin' I had about enough
I think you done ran straight outta luck
All you chicken heads talkin' that chicken head cluck, you're stuck
About to get plucked, so what?
I'll take you at uh, twenty-thousand degrees or at (or what?)
Twenty-thousand leagues under the sea
You try to be the big fish, I'll play you like bumble bee, tuna
You couldn't blow up the spot better than this if you were the Unabomber
I got that shit fatter than your mama, the drama
Raging and my nine, take ini or any
Come mosey on over my way, baby, I got goods and I got plenty
If any step, they'll get flipped like pennies
Heads or tails, call it in the air
Get blinded by the diamond puff glare (uh)
You're stuck in a stare (yeah)
I double dare all these hot shots that think they too hot to trot
You ain't got the Motts, your shit stinks like Fox
Turn it up a notch, who's hot? You not
Do stop, you just got dropped
By the one who's got it locked
Microphone pon cok

Microphone pon cok, keep it lock
The pon cok lyricist

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