Luyện nghe bài hát 10% Dis

Hot damn, hot damn, hot damn, hot
Hot damn, hot hoe, here we go again
Suckers steal a beat, when you know they win
You stole the beat, are you havin'
Now, me and the Auds show you how its done

You are what I as a, nerver plucker
pluckin' my nerves, you MC sucka
I I oughta tell you, better yet warn
I am like a stop, and my word is Bond

Like James, killin' in sight
The three-six, the name is Lyte
this jam, I really dont give a damn
'Cause Ima run and your whole damn clan, that youre a

Beat biter, style taker
Tell you to your face, you aint but a faker
Beat biter, dope taker
you to your face, you aint nuttin' but a faker
(Hit me why dontcha, hit me why dontcha?)

Milks bodyguard, is my too
You wanna get hurt, well is what you do
You put your foot up, and then your right foot next
Follow instructions, dont the context
Thirty a month your mood is rude
We know the cause of your attitude

Beat biter, style taker
Tell you to your face, you aint but a faker
Beat biter, dope taker
Tell you to face, you aint nuttin' but a faker

style is smooth, even for a cheatin' mic
You won applause as a Rakim sound-alike
a milkbone, a sign of recognition
Dont away, I think you should listen close
Dont boast, you said you wasnt
You liar, youre chasin' a chuckwagon

The way you learn you have to be taught
That if a beat is not for sale, it cant be bought
When you leave the mic, you claim its
Unlike Rakim, you are a
And I think you stop, before you gets in too deep
'Cause with a like Lyte, yo, I dont sleep

biter, dope style taker
Tell you to face, you aint nuttin' but a faker
Beat biter, dope style
Tell you to face, you aint nuttin' but a faker

When Im in a jam, with my Jill
My cousin across the room with a posse to kill
So I step in the middle, it just a little
Wait for some female to up and pop junk
my cousin a cue, treat the girl like a punk

Now Im not tryin' to say that Im into
But yo, if you cause it, yup, we have it
'Cause I aint out like a sucker no way
So I sit around the way for you to my day

We can go for the hands, better yet for the
'Cause youll be ignored, and at the same time, Ill be
Throughout the city, the town and the
The beat is funky, my is spunky

There is no in the rhyme Im sayin'
are the flaws of what my DJ is playin'
So sit back Jack, and to this its 10% dis
'Cause Im just about ready to fly fist, against your lips

But Ill wait for the day or night that you
And Ima serve then ya like a piece of, toast
Pop you in the microwave to watch your bubble
Your skin just crumble, a no trouble

Get my homegirls Dohni and to get stupid
This thing called hip-hop, Lyte is it
I hate to laugh in your face, but youre
Your beat, your rhymin', your timin', all

On the topic of rappin', I should a pamphlet, better yet a booklet
Your rap is weak homegirl and its crooked
Others write your rhymes, while I my own
I dont create a character, Im on the microphone

I am myself, no to be played
No to be written, no scene to be made
I am the director, as far as you are
You dont believe me, then youll to learn

This aint as as MC Lyte can get
And matter of fact, you aint nothin' yet
So never let me step into a hardy
to some people and then hear from somebody

You wanna Cause you know where I am
You wanna come in the 90s and see me at a jam
When a, mic is handy, ten away
I stretch my arm elastic, head like a magnet

Set assure, you I dont play
When it comes to it, the nitty gritty
For a sucker like you I a whole lot of pity

Beat biter, dope taker
Tell you to face, you aint nuttin' but a faker
biter, dope style taker
Tell you to your face, you aint but a faker