Hot damn, hot damn, hot damn, hot damn, hot damn
Hot damn ho, here we go again
Suckers steal a beat when you know they can't win
You stole the beat—are you having fun?
Now me and the Aud's gonna show you how it's done
You are what I label as a nerver plucker
You're plucking my nerves you MC sucker
I thought I oughta tell you, better yet warn
That I am like a stock and my word is bond
Like James, killing everybody in sight
The code's three-six, the name is Lyte
After this jam, I really don't give a damn
Cause I'mma run and tell your whole damn clan
That you're a...
Beat biter, dope style taker
Tell you to your face you ain't nothing but a faker
Beat biter, dope style taker
Tell you to your face you ain't nothing but a faker
Hit me why don't ya, hit me why don't ya
Milk's bodyguard is my bodyguard too
You wanna get hurt? Well, this is what you do
You put your left foot up and then your right foot next
Follow instructions, don't lose the context
Thirty days a month your mood is rude
We know the cause of your bloody attitude
Your style is smooth, even for a cheating mic
You shoulda won a prize as a Rakim sound-alike
Here's a Milkbone, a sign of recognition
Don't turn away, I think you should listen close
Don't boast, you said you wasn't bragging
You fucking liar, you're chasin' a chuckwagon
The only way you learn, you have to be taught
That if a beat is not for sale, then it can't be bought
When you leave the mic, you claim it's smoking
Unlike Rakim, you are a joke
And I think you ought to stop, before you get in too deep
Cause with a sister like Lyte, yo I don't sleep
When I'm in a jam, with my homegirl Jill
My cousin Trey across the room with a posse of girls
So I step in the middle, shake it just a little
Wait for some female to step up and pop junk
Give my cousin a cue, treat the girl like a punk
Now I'm not trying to say that I'm into static
But yo if you cause it, yep, we gotta have it
Cause I ain't going out like a sucker no way
So I sit around the way for you to make my day
We can go for the hands, better yet for the words
Cause you'll be ignored, and at the same time I'll be heard
Throughout the city, the town and the country
The beat is funky, my rhyme is spunky
There is no delaying in the rhyme I'm saying
Neither are there flaws in what my DJ is playing
So sit back Jack, and listen to this, it's 10% dis
Cause I'm just about ready to fly this fist against your lips
But I'll wait for the day or night that you approach
And I'mma serve and burn ya like a piece of toast
Pop you in the microwave and watch your head bubble
Your skin just crumble, a battle's no trouble
Get my homegirls Joanie and Kiki to get stupid
This thing called hip-hop, Lyte is ruling it
I hate to laugh in your face, but you're funny
Your beat, your rhyming, your timing, all crummy
On the topic of rapping, I should write a pamphlet better yet a booklet
Your rap is weak homegirl, and it's definitely crooked
Others write your rhymes while I write my own
I don't create a character when I'm on the microphone
I am myself, no games to be played
No script to be written, no scene to be made
I am the director, as far as you are concerned
You don't believe me, then you'll have to learn
This ain't as hard as MC Lyte can get
Matter of fact, you ain't seen nothing yet
So never let me step into a party hardy
Talk to some people and then hear from somebody
'You wanna battle?' cause you know where I am
You don't wanna come in the 90's and see me at a jam
When a mic is handy, ten feet away
I stretch my arm like elastic, hand like a magnet
Set assure, you know I don't play
When it comes down to it, the nitty gritty
For a sucker like you I feel a whole lot of pity
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
