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Princess Superstar ~ Who Writes Your Lyrics


I'm the flyest MC the finest MC the nicest MC oh that's boring see There's another MPC so why you think most hip-hop sounds the same except for me? Cryptic kick shit from the crypt sadistic lick hits with wit I'm quick Rip crickets in a wicket I'm plain wicked thick in the rig wearing kid lipstick I wreck shit on the next shit spit it in ya ear bit like a Qtip Big silly bitch wickedy witch lickety split in a sitch no dick but talk big carry a big stick So I'm a girl, yeah I'm white and I write all night with a bare swingin light On the computer alright a producer alright I produced this song- so you know who you are you know you were wrong No I was not in that porn On Golden Blonde got it goin on more James Bond than Sean John Conned James Cahn for a ticket to Cannes and I Love Ferris Bueller like tchhickachickkaa Please don't ask me who writes my lyrics I'll spit up in your face much faster than you could hear it Don't ask me who writes my lyrics Damn ya you're enamored I'm a slam ya hotter than your can down in Alabama Where's my camera I need a Kodak moment of the moment I made you feel like Hammer Son of Sam? I'm the daughter of Sam, slaughter a man on the microphone Pardon me ma'am was that part of a man or your son I just whipped on the mic and sent home Big quick shit New York- Stockholm Kike and a Wop Wipin a cock walkin the block drop ya jaw to jock to your sock I get that a lot yeah stop take stock shhh let me show you what I got Made up my mind- like made it up I imagined it-I don't got a mind I abandoned it in a cabinet So I could be a candidate for writin a few hits walkin a few pits and cashin in on that shit I put out my first tape in '94 if you got one, I'll buy it I don't got one no more it was called Mitch Better get my Bunny That shit was shitty but funny I admit it was dumb but I did it with no money In 9-5 my first CD called Strictly Platinum but it didn't go Platinum it went back to them And instead of waitin for someone to put me on I started a label ran it 'til the money was gone, then came along, then was gone, Money money money, don't try to make it with your songs But like Salt 'n Pepa in El Segundo we push it a long (Push it!) And then Fat Beats wouldn't take my last LP So I got egg beaters threw em back at the backpacks on 6th Ave. passin me At the Bagel Buffet planted a bomb next to Grays And when the records rained I sold 'em back for double to Fat Beats in LA It's all OK cuz when Fat Beats still wouldn't distribute my record I renamed it-Pharoah Monch featuring Chubby Checker Ha ha mic wrecker don't sleep, Princess Superstar – The shit is deep more free lyrics

I'm the flyest MC the finest MC the nicest MC oh that's boring see
There's another MPC so why you think most hip-hop sounds the same except for me?
Cryptic kick shit from the crypt sadistic lick hits with wit I'm quick
Rip crickets in a wicket I'm plain wicked thick in the rig wearing kid lipstick
I wreck shit on the next shit spit it in ya ear bit like a Qtip
Big silly bitch wickedy witch lickety split in a sitch no dick but talk big carry a big stick
So I'm a girl, yeah I'm white and I write all night with a bare swingin light
On the computer alright a producer alright
I produced this song- so you know who you are you know you were wrong
No I was not in that porn On Golden Blonde got it goin on more James Bond than Sean John
Conned James Cahn for a ticket to Cannes and I Love Ferris Bueller like tchhickachickkaa
Please don't ask me who writes my lyrics
I'll spit up in your face much faster than you could hear it
Don't ask me who writes my lyrics
Damn ya you're enamored I'm a slam ya hotter than your can down in Alabama
Where's my camera I need a Kodak moment of the moment I made you feel like Hammer
Son of Sam? I'm the daughter of Sam, slaughter a man on the microphone
Pardon me ma'am was that part of a man or your son I just whipped on the mic and sent home
Big quick shit New York- Stockholm
Kike and a Wop Wipin a cock walkin the block drop ya jaw to jock to your sock
I get that a lot yeah stop take stock shhh let me show you what I got
Made up my mind- like made it up I imagined it-I don't got a mind I abandoned it in a cabinet
So I could be a candidate for writin a few hits walkin a few pits and cashin in on that shit
I put out my first tape in '94 if you got one, I'll buy it
I don't got one no more it was called Mitch Better get my Bunny
That shit was shitty but funny I admit it was dumb but I did it with no money
In 9-5 my first CD called Strictly Platinum but it didn't go Platinum it went back to them
And instead of waitin for someone to put me on
I started a label ran it 'til the money was gone, then came along, then was gone,
Money money money, don't try to make it with your songs
But like Salt 'n Pepa in El Segundo we push it a long (Push it!)
And then Fat Beats wouldn't take my last LP
So I got egg beaters threw em back at the backpacks on 6th Ave. passin me
At the Bagel Buffet planted a bomb next to Grays
And when the records rained I sold 'em back for double to Fat Beats in LA
It's all OK cuz when Fat Beats still wouldn't distribute my record
I renamed it-Pharoah Monch featuring Chubby Checker
Ha ha mic wrecker don't sleep, Princess Superstar – The shit is deep

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Today, beautiful European and American music, an Afrobeats recorded in Lagos, can play in headphones in Tokyo; a South Korean idol group can fill an Argentine stadium to capacity. On Spotify, the playback volume of African music has increased by 500% in five years; K-pop has already transcended the Asian border and become a common language for young people all over the world; Latin music has consistently topped the streaming charts for several consecutive years. The world is getting smaller while the scope of music is expanding.

The Power of the Scene

When the lights dim and the first note is played, strangers become synchronized. The tremor when thousands sing together, and the melody that still echoes after the crowd disperses - this is an experience that no screen can convey. We look forward to the return of large-scale concerts to the essence of music, and we also look forward to small livehouses continuing to nourish the most vibrant soil of music.

Crossing Borders

Music transcends languages - even if you don't understand the lyrics, you can still shed tears or dance. It transcends cultures - the drumbeats of Nigeria and the chants of Iceland coexist under the same sky. It transcends generations - a song from half a century ago can still bring tears to the eyes of today's young people.

We Create Together

The future of global music is not determined by algorithms, nor is it monopolized by a few giants. It is shaped by every person who presses the play button. Maintain your curiosity, step out of your comfort zone. Support independent musicians and attend live performances. Seek connections through music - because we believe that a song can change a day, and music can change the world.

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