Luyện nghe bài hát The Mic's My Piece

** intro/skit **

fresh wes]
I'm a ruler, how I reign
I do to rap what the mona does to the frame
Rid 'em and written, my rhymes are like
I kiddin', they jock my portfolio
Played it wise, hit the
Rock international, now they call me
Mcs have died, becuase I killed them
Some older than me but yet
veterans knew the fear
Because rap is not a joke, this game's for
Sucker boys cuss me, females me
I off the set, my homeboys they touch me
Wes, you ate 'em up a feast
No need to use an uzi, when the 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 a trigger *bang* and I pull it
Too for prayer, dee is a slayer
Wes the mics like a hoops to isaiah
The player, the pimp mcs are risking
You'll get like clay decked liston

Where did the punch from?
Was it before, or after the
Ltd will be the
'punk tell me how many fingers you see'
The is my p-i-e-c-e
The maestro no mc
a beast I beat while my rhymes release
I can say *bang* my my piece
A bag of lsd and my dj needles
Lyrical dope my group feeble
Zero degrees centigrade, thirty-two
Cold paid if you're a parasite
Paraphrase, to parallel you're
You're paranoid, you play my record, you
I paragon, the vocabulist
? ? ? ? ? ? paragraph can't handle this
Move, you might get
There's a method ot my madness, don't my monologue
I'm like a beast my rhyme's released, like a sayss(? )
*bang* 'cause my mic's my

[maestro wes]
I walk around town looking at clowns
Thinking about my cold crisp build to
I the coloured clown, this is what I mean
I'm not american, my hundred dollar bill green
I'm from of the border, keep it in order
Beats the freak from the latin quarter
Though I'm with the t-o scene
I don't with no polo team
No charade, a I'm here to envade
X-rate, excess, escalate this
I girl like she don't exist
the dip, watch the exorcist
Extreme 360, will snap
She wrote my rhythmn, received the
Executed, extracted, she's
To the maestro, uhh,
In distress, hyperactive
Be jocking and still jacking, you must be kid
That's why allow the to rap
The aftermath, the bloodbath of
Every title you held stripped off
Love torn ego with a up lip
When I start firing I cease
I get hyped, when *bang* the mic's my

[maestro fresh

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 like this
That's absurb to me, don't say a to me
I'm t-o that's why you dun heard of me
Yesterday, but now you're
I'm exploding like nitroglycerine
If I was from new
I know you would, have to my rhythmn, five years ago
I had to try a little than the average
Just to get a break, but now I'm doing
Think that a star, sorry charlie
Got talk to farley
what I manifest is a masterpiece
Dope rhymes are released when the my piece

Some carry knives carry guns
2000 brothers in the channel to be number one
Looking serious, posing
You rub shoulders, step on toes and *bang* over
You might get
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?
Too many want to brawl, I think I it all
Hip hop niggas alive, gave prefer to ball
want to party, but some do
I propagate against one of the from my high school
sad funeral, ask any pupil
I know this before this quadruple
Some are so shallow, roads are so narrow
Follow my ? ? ? ? before blunt like 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 over bethoveen the b-boy's blastin'
Show pen another gay, I you in awe
array could bust an orchestra
I'm the maestro, my symphony can't
Too hype! *bang* when the mic's my piece