Studio Street Stage - Haiku D'Etat

Caught up, burnt out and turned about

Lurked about streets, about studio and stage

True ways to get paid

Mikah 9:

A chosen few I choose to roll in crews who be my trues

Exposing fools who broke the rules and cast 'em out my point of view

They end up assed out, without a clue

And there’s me without a shoe

They’re booted out of my living crew

They can’t do the things I do on these streets

Abstract Rude:

Peeped the game, wrote the book

Seen that look before

Been that crook at the store

Had hookers galore, gigolo

The bigger those rocks the quicker they close up shops

'til it’s sewed up

Nigga wonder why yo pager blow up

Aceyalone:

Now where would I be if I really wasn’t G-O-D

'ing on info and it’s simple to see my symphony

Is packed to capacity from the floor up to the balcony

I’m free

Must be the eagle, the hawk and the falcon in me

And a little bit of Malcolm in me, to make me me

Abstract Rude:

All I want for Christmas is a new drum beat machine

To say this shit and make a hit and get the green

Aceyalone:

Yes, man

Currency and the urgency, the emergency

The economic surgery, the perjury and the energy surging me

Mikah 9:

Computerized in this engineer’s eyes

Has to be very acute to manifest these words in me for the loot

Abstract Rude:

Cigarettes and coffee tickle a studio’s fancy

Just right for the mood of audio enhancing

Aceyalone:

And the herbals get me strong on the mic like Sampson

I throw some land, some miss some win some

And some I don’t win

Mikah 9:

But I’m getting in where I’m fitting in

Headphones in a sound proof booth

You got a problem with me living in

I’m advancing

Aceyalone:

Who is that standing on stage with the micro

Psycho-analyzing every sucka in the room

Whom could it be that slicing up the energy

Providing food for thought for those who need to be consumed

I assume that if you walk the streets you will be doomed

Marooned on my planet from the cradle to the tomb

I zoom at a million miles a hour 'til I bloom

And I blossom like a mushroom

Since I been out the room

Abstract Rude:

I’m the universal platform, I’ll let you talk trash

Generic or abnorm can we still get the cash

You don’t know yet as long as they pay you can be a poet

After the show, we’ll get the dough and it’s on me moet

I’m the bright lights second hand smoke filled arenas

This mic’s tight severing 'em, heard 'em through Cerwin Vegas

People diving off of me into the crowd, vibing off me and the style

My philosophy is a wild stage show

Mikah 9:

Hecklers, inside stage hater are expendable

They alive as long as they know something dependable

We can rendezvous and vibe if you boo then that’s offendable

There may be discipline resulting in an experiment

To see if yo limbs are bendable

If your jaw bone’s breakable

And then I’m a take a full eighth of the shrooms

And blaze the boom

Black man gold mines, hold mine, old rhymes

Got my fingers on the strings of east and west coast crimes