Luyện nghe bài hát The Mic's My Piece

** skipped **

[maestro fresh
I'm a ruler, how I reign
I do to rap what the mona lisa does to the
Rid 'em and written, my rhymes are like
I ain't kiddin', jock my portfolio
it wise, hit the studio
Rock international, now they call me
Mcs died, becuase I have killed them
Some older me but yet children
veterans knew the fear
Because rap is not a joke, this for real
Sucker boys cuss me, rush me
When I off the set, my homeboys they 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 test fresh wes, well I'm
The mind is a magnum, the is a bullet
The mic a trigger *bang* and I pull it
Too late for prayer, dee is a
Wes rocks the mics a hoops to isaiah
The player, the that mcs are risking
You'll get decked like decked liston

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

[maestro fresh
I walk around town looking at these
Thinking about my cold crisp build to
I sweat the clown, this is what I mean
I'm not american, my hundred bill ain't green
I'm from north of the border, keep it in
like the freak from the latin quarter
Though I'm with the t-o scene
I don't hang with no polo
No charade, a parade I'm here to
X-rate, excess, this escapade
I girl like she don't exist
Exercise the dip, the exorcist
360, necks will snap
She wrote my rhythmn, the whiplash
Executed, extracted, she's
To the maestro, uhh,
In distress, hyperactive
Be jocking and still jacking, you must be kid
why allow the sultan to rap
The aftermath, the bloodbath of
Every title you been stripped off
Love torn ego with a 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 I've been at this
me a new jack, that's a dis
New jacks rock like this
That's to me, don't say a word to me
I'm from t-o that's why you dun of me
Yesterday, but now listening
'cause I'm exploding like
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
to get a break, but now I'm doing damage
Think that a star, sorry charlie
Got talk to farley
'cause what I is a masterpiece
Dope rhymes are when the mic's my piece

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