** intro/skit skipped **
[maestro fresh wes]
Im a ruler, thats 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 aint 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 games 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 mics my piece
Chorus
"bang on"
"im murdering mc"
"bang on"
"im murdering mc"
"bang on"
"im murdering mc"
** scratching by dj ltd **
Repeat
[maestro fresh wes]
Some use a uzi, some a machete
You wanna test fresh wes, well Im ready
The mind is a magnum, the rhyme is a bullet
The mic thats 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
Youll 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 mics my piece
A bag of lsd and my dj does needles
Lyrical dope my group aint feeble
Zero degrees centigrade, thirty-two farenheit
Cold getting paid if youre a parasite
Paraphrase, to parallel youre paralyze
Youre paranoid, you play my record, you plagerize
I paragon, the paramont vocabulist
Lyrical ? ? ? ? ? ? paragraph cant handle this
Move, you might get mobbed
Theres a method ot my madness, dont mock my monologue
Im like a beast when my rhymes released, like a sayss(? )
*bang* cause my mics 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
Im not american, my hundred dollar bill aint green
Im from north of the border, keep it in order
Beats like the freak from the latin quarter
Though Im down with the t-o scene
I dont hang with no polo team
No charade, a parade Im here to envade
X-rate, excess, escalate this escapade
I fancy girl like she dont exist
Exercise the dip, watch the exorcist
Extreme 360, necks will snap
She wrote my rhythmn, received the whiplash
Executed, extracted, shes attracted
To the maestro, uhh, distracted
In distress, shes hyperactive
Be jocking and still jacking, you must be wack kid
Thats 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 mics my piece
Chorus
[maestro fresh wes]
Yeah
Like franklin, columbo, Im jumble-la
I can run so low, try to obtain my status
Dont they know how long Ive been at this
Call me a new jack, thats a dis
New jacks dont rock like this
Thats absurb to me, dont say a word to me
Im from t-o thats why you dun heard of me
Yesterday, but now youre listening
cause Im 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 Im doing damage
Think that youre a star, sorry charlie
Got beef? talk to farley
cause what I manifest is a masterpiece
Dope rhymes are released when the mics 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 its *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 youre blunt like pharoah
The mic is my weapon, with it I aint messing
No half stepping, Im progressing
Even when I die these lyrics will last
So roll over bethoveen cause the b-boys blastin
Show pen another gay, I leave you in awe
This array could bust an orchestra
Im the maestro, my symphony cant cease
Too damn hype! *bang* when the mics my piece
Chorus
