Maestro Fresh‐Wes Fine Tune da Mic Lyrics

“Naaah, Dis Kid Can’t Be From Canada?!!” Track Listing
CD 1
  • 1 I’m Drinkin’ Milk Now
  • 2 Check My Vernacular
  • 3 Pray to da East
  • 4 Certs Wid Out da Retsyn
  • 5 Mic Mechanism
  • 6 Makin’ Records
  • 7 Fine Tune da Mic
  • 8 Brown Sugar
  • 9 How Many Styles
  • 10 “Dat’s My Nigga!!”
  • 11 Higher Level
  • 12 Bring It On (remix)
  • 13 Make It for the Ruff
  • 14 “Dat’s My Nigga!!” (instrumental)

  • CHORUS X2
    [Maestro] Fine tune da mic
    [Showbiz] Engineer won't you check it
    [Maestro] It's the brother Maestro
    [Showbiz] And Showbiz is going to wreck it

    [Showbiz]
    So here I come (ha), so here I go (yo)
    And when you hear (huh), you know it's brother Show
    I like to rock a hundred miles, but you know I'm far from running
    Listen to the kicks and the snares, you know It's stunning
    I'm coming, I came, I'm only here to damage ya
    I left my city and my hometown to fly to Canada
    To get a peace of mind and make beats on the low
    And Show's got a flow, a combo with Maestro
    Fresh Wes, I never fess, big up to Diamond D
    A.G. and my partner Lord Finesse, can't forget Buckwild
    People know my style, don't play me like a child
    Or your fam be sitting in the front aisle, of a funeral home
    Put two to your dome, so pass the microphone
    The S-H-O-W-B-I-Z from 1-6-3, third and A-V-E
    The trump can't see me
    Lick for lick, I change cars like brother cange kicks
    And pick up chiocks and take them to the flicks
    So don't try to play big willie
    I'll smoke you with a cripsy hundred dollar bill
    And make the chump feel silly, huh
    You can't understand where my head's at
    While I made a record talking about liking my pockets fat
    And not flat, not flat
    And punks couldn't take it if you had ten gats
    And girls play my lap bcause I made Soul Clap
    I guess it's like that when you got a little stack

    CHORUS X2

    [Maestro Fresh Wes]
    Well I'm crushing, blood starts gushing when I'm bum rushing
    Me and the mic is like Startsky and Hutchin
    Not a plumber but I'm guarenteed to fix Farrah's faucet
    No I never ever lost it, now I'mma toss it
    Get off it, I'mma write, I'll role you like a tight spliff
    I might get hyper just like positive on a night shift
    Fresh Wes is the smoothest show and prover
    Like J. Degar Hoover, I make a ??? manouver
    Ain't no lookin back, I throw a jam at the Sugar Shack
    And I can make the mack say, Jack bring my hooker back
    I'm getting 'nuff props like Black Moon, I never wrote a wack tune
    Sons take my album cover straight to the bathroom
    Live like a wire, MC for hire
    Rapper all admire, but retire, when I ahnil-
    Late, deducts, and take da bucks
    Who the hell needs luck, I got it made and getting paid to fluc-
    Uate my lyrics, my uncategorical, metaphorical flow
    Makes you want to hear it, so don't compare it
    You can't come near it, I know you fear it
    You want to jeer it in the front row
    'Cause you know me and Show can flow
    We go head to head, toe to toe and blow for blow
    We say the kind of rhymes to make the party people listen
    Catching mad wreck on the mic mechanism

    CHORUS X4

    OUTRO [Maestro Fresh Wes]
    Yeah, that's how we doing it yo
    Big up to my DJ, LTD
    Loves to devast, never hesitate to motivate
    Farly Flex, relfex, MVP yo
    That's how we swing it in the studio
    Word up Fresh Wes, 1994
    I'm blowing up uhh
    I'm blowing up yeah
    Yeah
    I can't forget my man Chris
    My man Mac behind the fat tracks
    And my man Show B-I-Z
    AKA Mr. (F-A-T), we out

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