Luyện nghe bài hát 10% Dis

Hot damn, hot damn, hot damn, hot
Hot damn, hot damn hoe, here we go
Suckers steal a beat, when you they cant win
You the beat, are you havin' fun?
Now, me and the gonna show you how its done

You are I label as a, nerver plucker
pluckin' my nerves, you MC sucka
I I oughta tell you, better yet warn
That I am like a stop, and my word is

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

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
(Hit me why dontcha, hit me why dontcha?)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There is no delayin in the rhyme Im
Neither are the of what my DJ is playin'
So sit back Jack, and listen to its 10% dis
'Cause Im just about to fly this fist, against your lips

But Ill for the day or night that you approach
And Ima then burn ya like a piece of, toast
Pop you in the microwave to watch your bubble
Your just crumble, a battles no trouble

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

On the of rappin', I should write a pamphlet, better yet a booklet
rap is weak homegirl 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 to be written, no scene to be made
I am the director, as far as you are
You dont believe me, then youll to learn

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

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

Set assure, you I dont play
When it down to it, the nitty gritty
For a sucker like you I a whole lot of pity

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