(Take that microphone from that kid and heat it up)
  
   I keep the mic hot, I heat it up kid
   I keep the mic hot, I heat it up (x2)
  
   Mic check y'all
   Then throw it to the floor
   The crowd wanted more so I came in the door
   The great Rakim, papermates to the pen
   Knowledge is born and the light strikes again
   Elements burst and gave birth to the first
   Get the pen from the nurse and hook the mic up first
   When it absolutely positively has to be there on time
   I deliver a rhyme
   The heckler of hip hop, hop to this one
   I got more kid, they hate to miss one
   Style got jazz and the crowd's out of control
   Cause I've got the mic and I've got the soul
   New York's own microphone technician
   Thoughts'll give 'em visions
   Style'll make you listen
   Devastates the ear, my opponents can't see me
   I gave 'em directions, but wrote it in graffiti
   But they wanna know my m.o. ease back though
   They want the exact flow, then study my steelo
   Sketch the skit, but they still can't see what I did
   I heat the mic up kid
  
   I keep the mic hot, I heat it up kid
   I keep the mic hot, I heat it up (x4)
  
   Then I explode with a song with a original form
   Or I'll perform it at high mode, they want the code
   Destroyed the blueprints and documents and hits
   Crews been, um, looking for clues ever since
   Beats start brewing up, rhymes is rough
   Stages and microphones self-destruct
   And when you thought you had the format down pat
   You get kicked back to the doormat with that
   Cause I've got a high tech style with know-how
   Select the file watch the crowd go wild
   Bad beats to bless the females' finesse
   Points shot stress causing cardiac arrest
   Mics too hot for you to told in your hands
   Now they sell 'em with fifteen fans and mic stands
   Mine still overheats, if you touch it you can see what I did
   I heat the mic up kid
  
   I keep the mic hot, I heat it up kid
   I keep the mic hot, I heat it up (x4)
  
   If his opponents'll run a rap, tell 'em ease back
   I've got a knapsack with hip hop attacks
   Stacks of artifacts, formats in the act
   Tracks after macs, and you can't relax
   Rakim's equipped with penmanship
   Left my penmate, I could graduate from Penn State
   I could take any trade and make a high grade
   Even get extra credit when the rhyme's displayed
   As soon as I manifest, they cheat off my test
   Surround my desk and then stress the progress
   But they miss the point, forget the skit
   I'll bust your lip if you rip the script
   Brother's ain't cool and I'mma smoke up the room
   And I've got a crew called the last platoon
   Figure it out kid, problems coming
   Emcees are running cause I'm the gunman
   Extremely dangerous I bust rhymes into the crowd
   And watch 'em all scream out loud
   Aw man, and then I slam like a batteram
   Ra got the plan with your favorite jam
  
   I keep the mic hot, I heat it up kid
   I keep the mic hot, I heat it up (x4)
  
   The last platoon
   Rakim
   You know what I mean?
   And I'm out