Luyện nghe bài hát The Mic's My Piece

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[maestro wes]
I'm a ruler, that's how I
I do to rap what the lisa does to the frame
Rid 'em and written, my rhymes are like
I ain't kiddin', jock my portfolio
it wise, hit the studio
Rock international, now they me julio
Mcs have died, becuase I have them
older than me but yet children
Some veterans the fear
Because rap is not a joke, this game's for
Sucker cuss me, females rush me
When I off the set, my homeboys touch me
Wes, you ate 'em up a feast
No need to use an uzi, the mic's my piece

"bang on"
"i'm mc"
"bang on"
"i'm mc"
"bang on"
"i'm mc"
** by dj ltd **

[maestro wes]
Some use a uzi, some a
You wanna fresh wes, well I'm ready
The mind is a magnum, the is a bullet
The mic that's a trigger and I pull it
Too late for prayer, dee is a
Wes the mics like a hoops to isaiah
The player, the pimp mcs are risking
You'll get decked like clay decked

Where did the punch from?
Was it before, or the drum
Ltd be the referee
Saying 'punk tell me how many fingers you
The is my p-i-e-c-e
The maestro no mc
Like a beast I while my rhymes release
I can say my mic's my piece
A bag of lsd and my dj does
Lyrical dope my group ain't
Zero centigrade, thirty-two farenheit
getting paid if you're a parasite
Paraphrase, to parallel paralyze
paranoid, you play my record, you plagerize
I paragon, the paramont
? ? ? ? ? ? paragraph can't handle this
Move, you get mobbed
a method ot my madness, don't mock my monologue
I'm like a when my rhyme's released, like a sayss(? )
*bang* 'cause my mic's my

[maestro fresh
I walk around town looking at clowns
about my cold crisp build to brown
I the coloured clown, this is what I mean
I'm not american, my hundred bill ain't green
I'm from of the border, keep it in order
Beats like the freak the latin quarter
Though I'm down the t-o scene
I hang with no polo team
No charade, a parade I'm to envade
X-rate, excess, this escapade
I fancy like she don't exist
the dip, watch the exorcist
Extreme 360, necks will
She wrote my rhythmn, received the
Executed, extracted, she's
To the maestro, uhh,
In distress, she's
Be jocking and still jacking, you be wack kid
why allow the sultan to rap
The aftermath, the of paragraph
Every you held been stripped off
Love torn ego a busted up lip
I start firing I never cease
I get hyped, *bang* the mic's my piece

[maestro wes]

Like franklin, columbo, I'm
I can run so low, try to my status
Don't they know how long I've been at
me a new jack, that's a dis
New jacks don't rock this
That's absurb to me, don't say a to me
I'm from t-o why you dun heard of me
Yesterday, but now you're
I'm exploding like nitroglycerine
If I was new york
I know you would, have rocked to my rhythmn, five ago
I had to try a harder than the average
Just to get a break, but now I'm damage
Think that a star, sorry charlie
Got beef? to farley
'cause what I manifest is a
Dope rhymes are when the mic's my piece

Some carry knives carry guns
2000 in the channel trying to be number one
serious, flexing posing
You rub shoulders, on toes and it's *bang* over
You might get
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?
Too many want to brawl, I think I it all
Hip hop kept niggas alive, prefer to ball
Some want to party, but do
I propagate against one of the brothers my high school
Real sad funeral, ask any
I speak know before this quadruple
Some minds are so shallow, roads are so
Follow my ? ? ? ? before you're blunt pharoah
The mic is my weapon, it I ain't messing
No half stepping, I'm
Even when I die these lyrics last
So roll bethoveen 'cause the b-boy's blastin'
Show pen gay, I leave you in awe
This array could bust an
I'm the maestro, my can't cease
Too damn hype! *bang* when the mic's my