Duration: 3:42

Boris Gilyadov - Drop the Mic i'm working on both music and a diploma my songs'll wake rap up out of a coma when i'm done with one album it still wont be over got more where that came from and im doing it sober i'm not reachin for the stars, they're reachin' for me in fact, theyre reachin for us all through hdtv big chains hanging off anorexic necks the real fat in hollywood is found in their checks so dont feel perplexed about self centered rap and hard knock OGs earnin' grammys and plaques going platinum for sellin' their original crap maybe even showin' off their chains and their gats drug money got em keyboards and mics a gun wound and their records would spike every claim made is real, they don't play if they say they sold the yay, they sell it more today cause every man and woman entertainer knows sooner or later the cold wind will blow and put an end to their show, and the curtains close and they bow off stage with nothing left to compose (x2) how far can the average guy make it if he cant crack a smile or at least fake it when the rain pours on his face and he's cold, shakin nobody wants their talent to be forsaken there are seven billion people, each with a story out of the seventy that passed, few achieved glory and for every million only one can lose himself on a stage when the crowd is being no help can you hold the mic still when the crowd is shallow and their poisoning hatred is hard to swallow in clubs dark and lonely, with smiles low you need a spark to carry you through, but where's the motivation when all you hear are varying boos from a crowd weary of truth, so scary you loose fall on your knees and call it a day drop the mic, 'cause you'll never hold it again --- from the power of the mic in my hands held tight crowds move side to side, 'n left to right to the power of the mic, in the dark or the light in the day or the night, in peace or in fights while the wars rage on, and the black rain pours while our nations drown in the tears of the poor while Earth's many faces crack in many places and leave no visible traces of Humanity's races feel the power of the mic as it feeds your ears and your heart and your soul and your eyes in tears feel the power of the beat as it flows like streams long arid and dead... oh how cold life seems but i've seen darkness hide when the sun shun the night and i see the crowd live through the music i write this truth is what i give through rhythm and prose this music is what i with true reasoning chose cause every man and woman entertainer knows sooner or later the cold wind will blow and put an end to their show, and the curtains close and they bow off stage with nothing left to compose (x2) (c)2007 Boris Gilyadov | All Rights Reserved