Luyện nghe bài hát The Mic's My Piece

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[maestro fresh
I'm a ruler, that's how I
I do to rap what the mona does to the frame
Rid 'em and written, my are like rodeo
I ain't kiddin', they jock my
Played it wise, hit the
international, now they call me julio
Mcs have died, becuase I killed them
Some than me but yet children
Some veterans the fear
Because rap is not a joke, this game's for
boys 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, when the mic's my

"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 test fresh wes, I'm ready
The is a magnum, the rhyme is a bullet
The mic that's a trigger and I pull it
Too late for prayer, dee is a
Wes rocks the like a hoops to isaiah
The player, the pimp mcs are risking
You'll get like clay decked liston

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

[maestro fresh
I walk around town at these clowns
Thinking about my cold build to brown
I the coloured clown, this is what I mean
I'm not american, my hundred dollar bill ain't
I'm north 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 hang with no polo
No charade, a I'm here to envade
X-rate, excess, this escapade
I fancy girl she don't exist
Exercise the dip, the exorcist
Extreme 360, necks will
She my rhythmn, received the whiplash
Executed, extracted, she's
To the maestro, uhh,
In distress, hyperactive
Be jocking and still jacking, you be wack kid
why allow the sultan to rap
The aftermath, the of paragraph
title you held been stripped off
Love torn ego with a up lip
When I start firing I never
I get hyped, when 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 at this
me a new jack, that's a dis
New jacks don't rock this
That's to me, don't say a word to me
I'm from t-o why you dun heard of me
Yesterday, but now you're
'cause I'm exploding like
If I was new york
I know you would, have rocked to my rhythmn, years ago
I had to try a little harder the average
Just to get a break, but now I'm damage
that you're a star, sorry charlie
Got beef? talk to
what I manifest is a masterpiece
Dope rhymes are released when the mic's my

Some carry knives carry guns
2000 brothers in the channel trying to be one
serious, flexing posing
You rub shoulders, step on and it's *bang* over
You get shafted
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?
Too many to brawl, I think I heard it all
Hip hop kept 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 speak know this this quadruple
Some minds are so shallow, are so narrow
my ? ? ? ? before you're blunt like pharoah
The mic is my weapon, with it I messing
No half stepping, I'm
Even when I die these lyrics will
So roll over bethoveen 'cause the blastin'
Show pen gay, I leave you in awe
array could bust an orchestra
I'm the maestro, my can't cease
Too damn hype! *bang* the mic's my piece