Lyrics Mic Felon - Hilltop Hoods

He might've got out
He might've got out
What the hell is this
A minute ago you tell me he's part of the wreckage, now he kinda got out
Listen up, ladies an gentlemen
Our fugitive has been on the run for ninety minutes
Average foot speed over uneven ground, barring injury is four miles an hour
That gives us a radius of
Six miles

I got committed to the pen now my shit's so locked down
MC's think I'm doin' time for this hip hop sound
Debris the mastermind, Suffa's my partner in crime
I be the microphone felon, (tell them your master design)

It all started when I was young fiendin' for mic's
Dreamin' of heights that I would be reachin' despite
No one would put me on, or even play me at that
So earned my dues gankin' mic's labelled "Radio Shack"

At open mic one night far from sober or with it
This guy pulls me off and says "You're rhymin' over the limit!"
"And headin' that way you won't last a day or a night"
"You need to be down for the long haul kid, we call 'em lifers"

"Beside you need to stick with me 'cause rhyme pays"
"And I know this heist where we can jack some sine waves"
"They're mainly small timers, freestylers"
"Street 'earchers and beat merchants, none of them real rhymers!"
"They're raping this culture and make me sick to my stomach!"
"These fools need to be arrested for sleepin' in public!"

I dug it, got serious and mastered my rhyme
The rocked to the spot with my new partner in crime
Trespassed on stage, stole the mic to further insult
Committed 'arsonny, defamation and verbal assault
They tried to blame the engineer oblivious to our ploy
So we crept backstage as they buried the sound boy

I stole the DJ's crates and his diamond needles
Now they got me on the run so it's time to leave ya'll
We tried to cross the border, got cause as a noun carrier
Pulled over and evicted for breakin' the sound barrier

This cop threw me to the ground, 'cause hip hop is violent
Said "You got freedom of speech, just choose to remain silent!"
Then he checked in the trunk and he found the hot sound
I got committed to the pen now my shit's locked down

I'm a rhyme felon, peeps do what I tell 'em
People can't handle the product that I'm sellin'
I left my dwellin' now I'm on the run
Microphone felony number one

I'm a rhyme felon, peeps do what I tell 'em
People can't handle the product that I'm sellin'
I left my dwellin' now I'm on the run
Microphone felony number one

I'm a rhyme felon, peeps do what I tell 'em
People can't handle the product that I'm sellin'
I left my dwellin' now I'm on the run
Microphone felony number one

(I was forced into my life)
(I was forced into my life of crime)
(Career criminal)
(Now my, now my career, career is)
(Rhyme)

(One, one)
(Still number one, one)
(Still number one, one)
(Still number one)