Luyện nghe bài hát 10% Dis

Hot damn, hot damn, hot damn, hot
Hot damn, hot hoe, here we go again
steal 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 tell you, better yet
That I am like a stop, and my word is

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

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

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

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

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

The way you learn you have to be taught
That if a 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
with a sister like Lyte, yo, I dont sleep

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

When Im in a jam, with my homegirl
My cousin Trey across the room with a to kill
So I step in the middle, it just a little
Wait for some 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 around the way for you to my day

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

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

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

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

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

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

This aint as hard as MC can get
And matter of fact, you aint nothin' yet
So never let me step a party hardy
to some people and then hear from 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 play
When it comes to it, the nitty gritty
For a sucker you I feel a whole lot of pity

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