DON'T LIKE TO DANCE | Mykel Hawk Music

They're looking at me skeptical like who the fuck is this guy
Who walked in like his testicles are dipped in gold and spit shined
Who told him it's acceptable to come in with these slick rhymes
This dude is reprehensible it's rude of him to skip lines
Stronger dope than fentanyl equipped I'm spitting strychnine
Now rappers undetectable I dipped 'em all in quicklime
Imagine every day your hype is growing by the second
And they're already saying Mike is flowing like a legend
If you're a fan of bougie rap than you might not have heard of me
But that don't mean that ain't rocking with me out in Germany
Cause they don't give a fuck about your Gucci out in Munich
And in Berlin they'll bust you in your chin just to do it
Reviewing critics say I got a brand new sound and that I'm pioneering it
I tell them this is Hip-Hop you just ain't used to hearing it
But if you digging this I'll gladly show you where it came from
Begining record spinning before they had the 808 drum
We only here cause Cindy threw a party in the rec room
And cause her brother Hercules came through to make the set boom
And cause the homie Coke La Rock came through to grab the mic
And cause everybody from the block was in the spot that night
Kool Herc
Kool Herc

I could bounce to some disco but don't like to dance
I can't find no E so no dubstep or trance
I'm too optimistic to take up the blues
I couldn't do country I gave up the booze
You could say that I rock but can't fuck with that metal
Plus Mykel loves God I don't worship the devil
The difference in choosing come clear into view
Hip-Hop is what I am man it's not what I do

These rappers faker than a practicing baptist porno actress
And I create lasting classics to contrast with the wackness
It'd be great if I managed to find my way to your top five
And rated a savage amongst the greatest to rock live
Kids like the Hawk nice he on that style from way back
But wait where's his braids at and all of his face tats
Where's the hoes and the Maybach the rose champagne at
You're not ready for Boom-Bap if that's where your brains at
But I got you a placemat I'm keeping your seat warm
Cause that shit is straight wack and I am in peak form
The eye of a freak storm the pinnacle new again
I'm riding this beat from the criminal hooligan
Original school of men who require no leaders
We raise our consciousness higher and don't admire elitists
I spit fire the meanest bang like an iron machinist
So you could buy and acquire my whole entire Rap thesis
Eastern block to the east coast with boots strapped and chinos
We call this shit Boom-Bap cause that's how the beat goes

Y'all might call it as gift but I call it a curse
I'm conflicted and pissed insist that every verse
Is immersed in ill shit lit, spit and rehearse
Admittedly if I quit shit I'd physically burst
And so I'm walking the earth eradicating my enemies
Quotables worthy of annotating parenthesis
She's Latin and Lebanese she my biggest supporter
Dynasty like Kennedys as long as she in my corner
And all y'all screaming best rapper alive
Got my whole family grieving thinking I must've died
But I survived the 505 with no tag on my big toe
West siding I'd ride with a bag for a window
We making moves with no limit but still be choking in limbo
They'll take your life in a minute for a broken Nintendo
Now we just go back to visit since we moved to the east
You can change you location but no removing the streets
And they're infused in the beats and cached in the voice
Masterful at my craft but I ain't really got a choice

Bombs on 'em
Bombs on 'em
Bombs on 'em