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 cant win
You stole the beat, are you havin'
Now, me and the gonna show you how its done

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

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

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

bodyguard, is my bodyguard too
You wanna get hurt, this is what you do
You put left foot up, and then your right foot next
Follow instructions, dont lose the
Thirty days a month your is rude
We the cause of your bloody attitude

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

Your style is smooth, for a cheatin' mic
You shoulda won applause as a Rakim
Heres a milkbone, a of recognition
turn away, I think you should listen close
Dont boast, you you wasnt braggin'
You liar, youre chasin' a chuckwagon

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

biter, dope 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

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

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

We can go for the hands, better yet for the
youll be ignored, and at the same time, Ill be heard
Throughout the city, the and the country
The beat is funky, my rhyme is

There is no in the rhyme Im sayin'
Neither are the flaws of what my DJ is
So sit back Jack, and listen to its 10% dis
'Cause Im just about to fly this 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 head bubble
Your skin just crumble, a no trouble

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

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

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

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

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

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

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