Luyện nghe bài hát 10% Dis

Hot damn, hot damn, hot damn, hot
Hot damn, hot damn hoe, we go again
Suckers a beat, when you know they cant win
You stole the beat, are you fun?
Now, me and the Auds gonna you how its done

You are what I as a, nerver plucker
Youre my nerves, you MC sucka
I thought I oughta you, better yet warn
That I am like a stop, and my is Bond

Like James, everybody in sight
The codes three-six, the is Lyte
After this jam, I dont give a damn
'Cause Ima run and tell your whole damn clan, youre a

Beat biter, dope taker
you to your face, you aint nuttin' but a faker
Beat biter, dope taker
Tell you to your face, you aint but a faker
(Hit me why dontcha, hit me why dontcha?)

bodyguard, is my bodyguard too
You wanna get hurt, well this is you do
You put your left up, and then your right foot next
instructions, dont lose the context
Thirty days a month your is rude
We the cause of your bloody attitude

Beat biter, dope taker
Tell you to your face, you nuttin' but a faker
Beat biter, dope style
Tell you to your face, you aint but a faker

Your style is smooth, even for a mic
You won applause as a Rakim sound-alike
a milkbone, a sign of recognition
Dont turn away, I you should listen close
Dont boast, you you wasnt braggin'
You fuckin' liar, youre chasin' a

The only way you learn you have to be
if a beat is not for sale, then it cant be bought
When you leave the mic, you claim its
Unlike Rakim, you are a
And I think you oughta stop, you gets in too deep
'Cause with a sister Lyte, yo, I dont sleep

Beat biter, style taker
you to your face, you aint nuttin' but a faker
Beat biter, dope taker
you to your face, you aint nuttin' but a faker

When Im in a jam, my homegirl Jill
My Trey across the room with a posse to kill
So I step in the middle, it just a little
Wait for female to step up and pop junk
Give my cousin a cue, treat the like a punk

Now Im not tryin' to say that Im into
But yo, if you cause it, yup, we gotta it
I aint goin out like a sucker no way
So I sit the way for you to make my day

We can go for the hands, yet for the words
'Cause youll be ignored, and at the same time, Ill be
Throughout the city, the and the country
The beat is funky, my is spunky

There is no delayin in the Im sayin'
are the flaws of what my DJ is playin'
So sit back Jack, and listen to its 10% dis
'Cause Im just about ready to fly this fist, against your

But Ill wait for the day or that you approach
And Ima serve then ya like a piece of, toast
Pop you in the microwave to watch your head
Your skin just crumble, a battles no

Get my homegirls Dohni and Kiki to get
This thing called hip-hop, is rulin' it
I hate to in your face, but youre funny
Your beat, your rhymin', your timin', all

On the topic of rappin', I should a pamphlet, better yet a booklet
Your rap is weak and its definitely crooked
Others write your rhymes, I write my own
I dont create a character, Im on the microphone

I am myself, no to be played
No script to be written, no scene to be
I am the director, as far as you are
You dont believe me, then have to learn

This aint as as MC Lyte can get
And matter of fact, you aint nothin' yet
So never let me into a party hardy
Talk to some people and then hear somebody

You wanna battle? Cause you know I am
You dont wanna in the 90s and see me at a jam
a, mic is handy, ten feet away
I my arm like elastic, head like a magnet

Set assure, you know I dont
When it comes down to it, the nitty
For a sucker like you I feel a lot of pity

biter, dope style taker
Tell you to your face, you aint but a faker
Beat biter, dope style
Tell you to your face, you nuttin' but a faker