I'ma performer strange, so the mic warmer was born to gain Nas, why did you do it? You know you got the mad fat fluid when you rhyme, it's halftime (
Grandmaster Caz from The Cold Crush Brothers] You got another thing comin if you think me and my man ain't sellin Got more gold than Mr. Drum and we sellin
: [Method] Uhh [M. Killa] Deadly Medley part two [Method] That's my word! It ain't safe no more... bitch! [Masta Killa] Yo, yo Brain
you clique got Was lip lock, heavy heat, steady street sweepin your peeps Hawks, machete chops puttin' cease to your petty fleets This raw rebel got more
my airtime, with that WEAK WACK FULLA FULLA BULLSHIT RHYME so step off roach, or get stepped upon Because my rhymes they spray like D-Con 4 Do you want more
my brother, but I would consider 'Lyte as a Rock' a simile because of the usage of the word 'as' And now.. directly from the planet of Brooklyn MC Lyte -- as a Rock! [MC
ya dare light it (uh, c'mon) This is my rhyme and I'm gonna recite it First up to bat, Pos K the party wrecker Got more moves than an effin game of checkers
to be the best MC (under the sun) (under the sun) (under the sun) (under the sun) (Now old grey-hair granny ain't here no more) (Now old grey-hair granny
t nothin' up my sleeves The next MC that rhyme 'official' with 'ref with a whistle' That ain't Young Money I'ma definitely diss you If you Rhymin' 'packin
judge's decision, your rhyme's too young So mellow out, coward, McDonald's is hirin My brain is in effect, in other words firin Rhyme after rhyme, don
wit my new hairdo, Outfits unused, fifty dollar socks, hundred-thousand dollar shoes Man, I'm givin' blues to these sucka MC's Who you be? You know who I be, young
the back pages of the L.A. weekly to see if they would write and recognize the sound cause in those days Young MC was underground lot of times I would rhyme
's wild, now with the style, couldn't stand Niggaz wanna jump, then stepped, to the center Of the rhyme inventor, MC tormentor You get jacked and slapped, across the MC
of skunk to funnel the P-Funk, smokin woolie blunts Dust cocktails and primos, shot more dice than casinos Back when Wu-Gambinos were called F.O.I. MC
's a few more punks that I got to rip All you chump MC's who sell out quick When P.E. was on the top, you rode the tip But now they got problems and
take over the earth See my rhymes, are the type of fly rhymes That can only get down with my crew And if you try to take lines or bite rhymes We'll show
, your a dutch master, Roll like a natural disaster, As I crack ya, ass like cheap blastas, Rhyme mic bash ya, while my tongue lash ya, With the rhyme
stop, it never could I'm known all in your neighborhood As an MC rapper, right on time Sucker MC's don't sing my rhymes 'Cause if they do, I'll be slapping Sucker MC