Verse One: 

Turn up the bass check out my melody hand out a cigar 
I'm lettin knowledge be born and my name's the R 
k i m not like the rest of them I'm not on a list 
That's what I'm sayin I drop science like a scientist 
My melody's in a code the very next episode 
Has the mic often distortin ready to explode 
I keep the mic in Fahrenheit freeze MC's and make em colder 
The listener's system is kickin like solar 
As I memorize, advertise, like a poet 
Keep you goin when I'm flowin, smooth enough, you know it 
But rough that's why the middle of my story I tell E.B. 
Nobody beats the "R", check out my melody... 

Verse Two: 

So what if I'm a microphone fiend addicted soon as I sing 
One of these for MC's so they don't have to scream 
I couldn't wait to take the mic, flow into it to test 
Then let my melody play, and then the record suggest 
That I'm droppin bombs, but I stay peace and calm 
Any MC that disagree with me just wave your arm 
And I'll break, when I'm through breakin I'll leave you broke 
Drop the mic when I'm finished and watch it smoke 
So stand back, you wanna rap? All of that can wait 
I won't push, I won't beat around the bush 
I wanna break upon those who are not supposed to 
You might try but you can't get close to 
Because I'm number [bad word] is none 
I'm measured with the heat that's made by sun 
Whether playin ball or bobbin in the hall 
I just writin my name in graffiti on the wall 
You shouldn't have told me you said you control me 
So now a contest is what you owe me 
Pull out your money, pull out your cut 
Pull up a chair, and I'ma tear [bad word] up 
My name is Rakim Allah, and R & stands for "Ra" 
Switch it around, but [bad word] out "R" 
So easily will I e-m-c-e-e 
My repetition of words is "check out my melody" 
Some bass and treble is moist, scratchin and cuttin a voice 
And when it's mine that's when the rhyme is always choice 
I wouldn't have came to ?set? my name ?around the? same weak [bad word] 
Puttin blurs and slurs and words that don't fit 
In a rhyme, why waste time on the microphone 
I take this more serious than just a poem 
Rockin party to party, backyard to yard 
Now tear it up, y'all, and bless 
2000 
the mic for the gods 

Verse Three: 

The rhyme [bad word]  at the same time sharp 
I can swing off anything even a string of a harp 
Just turn it on and start rockin, mind no introduction 
Til I finish droppin science, no [bad word] 
When I approach I exercise like a coach 
Usin a melody and add numerous notes 
With the mic and the R-a-k-i-m 
It's a task, like a match I will strike again 
Rhymes are poetically kept and alphabetically stepped 
Put in order to pursue with the momentum except 
I say one rhyme and I order a longer rhyme shorter 
pause, but don't stop the tape recorder 

Verse Four: 

I'm not a [bad word]  first rhyme editor 
Melody arranger, poet, etcetera 
Extra events, the grand finale like bonus 
I am the man they call the microphonist 
With wisdom which means wise words bein spoken 
Too many at one time watch the mic start smokin 
I came to express the rap I manifest 
Stand in my way and I'll lead a ??? words protest 
MC's that wanna be dissed they're gonna 
Be dissed if they don't get from in fronta 
All they can go get is me a glass of Moet 
hard time, sip your juice and watch a smooth poet 
I take 7 MC's put em in a line 
And add 7 more brothas who think they can rhyme 
Well, it'll take 7 more before I go for mine 
And that's 21 MC's ate up at the same time 
Easy does it, do it easy, that's what I'm doin 
No fessin, no messin around, no chewin 
No robbin, no buyin, bi