Luyện nghe bài hát 10% Dis

Hot damn, hot damn, hot damn, hot
Hot damn, hot damn hoe, we go again
steal a beat, when you know they cant win
You stole the beat, are you havin'
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 word is

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

Beat biter, dope style
Tell you to your face, you nuttin' but a faker
Beat biter, style taker
Tell you to your face, you aint nuttin' but a
(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 foot up, and then your right foot
Follow instructions, dont lose the
Thirty days a month mood is rude
We the cause of your bloody attitude

Beat biter, style taker
Tell you to your face, you nuttin' but a faker
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 applause as a Rakim
Heres a milkbone, a sign of
Dont turn away, I think you should close
Dont boast, you said you wasnt
You fuckin' liar, chasin' a chuckwagon

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

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

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

Now Im not to say that Im into static
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, better yet for the
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'
are the flaws of what my DJ is playin'
So sit Jack, and listen to this its 10% dis
'Cause Im just about ready to fly this fist, against your

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

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

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

I am myself, no games to be
No to be written, no scene to be made
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 seen nothin' yet
So never let me step into a 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
When a, mic is handy, ten away
I stretch my arm like elastic, head a magnet

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

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