"3 Way Radio" by: Mic, Taun +Taun, T-Rex

Its a blessing/that intellectual connection/a three way radio thats deeper then mic checking/a maze of minds understood without question/ undeniably, science can't define me/ but tests will rove these two are behind me/ we're expressing in ways that will always be heard/ different, where actions are as absent as words/ we dont need paper no ink or a pen/ just thoughts that come befor and will follow and the end/ so you can call it a modem you can call it what you like/ long as its known that its a server serving only three mics/

more complicated then a phat beat supporting lyrics/ its 3 emcee's with the mental compacity to define spirits/ rhymes are travelling/ through thoughts unravelling/ comming together to flow smoother then a well oiled gatling/ but it hurts just the same/ logical emcee's touching sensative spots in the brain/ while we connect on a higher level, yall struggle to maintain/ so grasp the mic, while i get ahold of a thought/unfortunatelly the steeze of we three emcee's cannot be bought/and the game can barely be believed, lead alone tought/ its an art, and we're the painters/painting a picture for not only the unfamous/you claim to be emcees but you missed it/ that telepalical level of hip hop you never knew existed/