Luyện nghe bài hát The Mic's My Piece

** intro/skit **

[maestro fresh
I'm a ruler, that's how I
I do to rap the mona lisa does to the frame
Rid 'em and written, my are like rodeo
I ain't kiddin', they jock my
Played it wise, hit the
Rock international, now they call me
Mcs have died, becuase I killed them
older than me but yet children
Some knew the fear
Because rap is not a joke, this game's for
Sucker boys cuss me, females me
When I off the set, my homeboys touch me
Wes, you ate 'em up like a
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 mind is a magnum, the rhyme is a
The mic that's a trigger *bang* and I it
Too for prayer, dee is a slayer
Wes rocks the mics a hoops to isaiah
The player, the that mcs are risking
You'll get decked clay decked liston

Where did the punch from?
Was it before, or after the
Ltd will be the
Saying 'punk tell me how many you see'
The is my p-i-e-c-e
The maestro 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 you're a
Paraphrase, to parallel you're
You're paranoid, you my record, you plagerize
I paragon, the vocabulist
Lyrical ? ? ? ? ? ? paragraph can't this
Move, you might get
There's a method ot my madness, mock my monologue
I'm like a when my rhyme's released, like a sayss(? )
'cause my mic's my piece

[maestro fresh
I walk around town looking at these
Thinking about my cold crisp build to
I sweat the coloured clown, this is what I
I'm not american, my hundred dollar ain't green
I'm north of the border, keep it in order
Beats the freak from 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 girl she don't exist
Exercise the dip, watch the
Extreme 360, will snap
She wrote my rhythmn, received the
Executed, extracted, attracted
To the maestro, uhh,
In distress, she's
Be and still jacking, you must be wack kid
why allow the sultan to rap
The aftermath, the bloodbath of
Every title you been stripped off
Love ego with a busted up lip
I start firing I never cease
I get hyped, when the mic's my piece

[maestro wes]

Like franklin, columbo, I'm
I can run so low, try to obtain my
Don't they know how I've been at this
me a new jack, that's a dis
New jacks don't rock like
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 listening
'cause I'm exploding nitroglycerine
If I was from new
I you would, have rocked to my rhythmn, five years ago
I had to try a little harder than the
Just to get a break, but now I'm damage
Think that you're a star, sorry
Got talk to farley
what I manifest is a masterpiece
Dope rhymes are when the mic's my piece

Some carry knives carry guns
2000 brothers in the channel trying to be one
serious, flexing posing
You rub shoulders, step on toes and it's over
You get shafted
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?
Too many to brawl, I think I heard it all
Hip hop kept niggas alive, gave prefer to
Some want to party, but do
I propagate against one of the from my high school
Real sad funeral, ask any
I speak know this this quadruple
Some minds are so shallow, 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 will last
So roll bethoveen 'cause the b-boy's blastin'
pen another gay, I leave you in awe
This array could bust an
I'm the maestro, my symphony can't
Too damn hype! when the mic's my piece