10% Dis - MC Lyte

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

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