The Mic's My Piece

[Maestro Fresh Wes]

I'm a ruler, that's how I reign

I do to rap what the Mona Lisa does to the frame

Rid 'em and written, my rhymes are like rodeo

I ain't kiddin', they jock my portfolio

Played it wise, hit the studio

Rock international, now they call me Julio

MCs have died, becuase I have killed them

Some older than me but yet children

Some veterans knew the fear

Because rap is not a joke, this game's for real

Sucker boys cuss me, females rush me

When I off the set, my homeboys they touch me

Wes, you ate 'em up like a feast

No need to use an Uzi, when the mic's my piece

CHORUS

"Bang on"

"I'm murdering MC"

"Bang on"

"I'm murdering MC"

"Bang on"

"I'm murdering MC"

** Scratching by DJ LTD **

REPEAT

[Maestro Fresh Wes]

Some use a Uzi, some a machete

You wanna test Fresh Wes, well I'm ready

The mind is a magnum, the rhyme is a bullet

The mic that's a trigger *BANG* and I pull it

Too late for prayer, dee is a slayer

Wes rocks the mics like a hoops to Isaiah

The player, the pimp that MCs are risking

You'll get decked like Clay decked Liston

*BANG*

Where did the punch come from?

Was it before, or after the drum

LTD will be the referee

Saying 'punk tell me how many fingers you see'

The M-I-C is my P-I-E-C-E

The Maestro needs no MC

Like a beast I beat while my rhymes release

I can say *BANG* my mic's my piece

A bag of LSD and my DJ does needles

Lyrical dope my group ain't feeble

Zero degrees centigrade, thirty-two farenheit

Cold getting paid if you're a parasite

Paraphrase, to parallel you're paralyze

You're paranoid, you play my record, you plagerize

I paragon, the paramont vocabulist

Lyrical ?????? paragraph can't handle this

Move, you might get mobbed

There's a method ot my madness, don't mock my monologue

I'm like a beast when my rhyme's released, like a sayss(?)

*BANG* 'cause my mic's my piece

CHORUS

[Maestro Fresh Wes]

I walk around town looking at these clowns

Thinking about my cold crisp build to brown

I sweat the coloured clown, this is what I mean

I'm not American, my hundred dollar bill ain't green

I'm from North of the border, keep it in order

Beats like the freak from the Latin Quarter

Though I'm down with the T-O scene

I don't hang with no polo team

No charade, a parade I'm here to envade

X-rate, excess, escalate this escapade

I fancy girl like she don't exist

Exercise the dip, watch the exorcist

Extreme 360, necks will snap

She wrote my rhythmn, received the whiplash

Executed, extracted, she's attracted

To the Maestro, UHH, distracted

In distress, she's hyperactive

Be jocking and still jacking, you must be wack kid

That's why allow the sultan to rap

The aftermath, the bloodbath of paragraph

Every title you held been stripped off

Love torn ego with a busted up lip

When I start firing I never cease

I get hyped, when *BANG* the mic's my piece

CHORUS

[Maestro Fresh Wes]

Yeah

Like Franklin, Columbo, I'm jumble-la

I can run so low, try to obtain my status

Don't they know how long I've been at this

Call me a new jack, that's a dis

New jacks don't rock like this

That's absurb to me, don't say a word to me

I'm from T-O that's why you dun heard of me

Yesterday, but now you're listening

'Cause I'm exploding like nitroglycerine

If I was from New York

I know you would, have rocked to my rhythmn, five years ago

I had to try a little harder than the average

Just to get a break, but now I'm doing damage

Think that you're a star, sorry Charlie

Got beef? talk to Farley

'Cause what I manifest is a masterpiece

Dope rhymes are released when the mic's my piece

Some carry knives some carry guns

2000 brothers in the channel trying to be number one

Looking serious, flexing posing

You rub shoulders, step on toes and it's *BANG* over

You might get shafted

????????????????

Too many want to brawl, I think I heard it all

Hip hop kept niggas alive, gave prefer to ball

Some want to party, but some do

I propagate against one of the brothers from my high school

Real sad funeral, ask any pupil

I speak know this before this quadruple

Some minds are so shallow, roads are so narrow

Follow my ???? before you're blunt like pharoah

The mic is my weapon, with it I ain't messing

No half stepping, I'm progressing

Even when I die these lyrics will last

So roll over Bethoveen 'cause the b-boy's blastin'

Show pen another gay, I leave you in awe

This array could bust an orchestra

I'm the Maestro, my symphony can't cease

Too damn hype! *BANG* when the mic's my piece