| Why is it that your watch stopped tickin, but you still keep clockin?
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| And no matter how hard you jinx, I keep rockin
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| Listen, hoe, cause I’m the Lyte one
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| And if you’re lookin for a fight, you found the right one
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| (They call me Lyte)
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| (And I’m a slave to the rhythm)
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| (Funky fresh, dressed to impress, ready to party)
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| I’m not a procrastinator, or a instigator
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| But when it comes to dope rhymes on the mic, I’m the creator
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| I never look for trouble, but somehow it finds me But yo, I just conquer it, and leave it all behind me The L-y-t-e, very outspoken
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| And when I rock a rhyme, sometimes I leave you chokin
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| I’m MC Lyte, comin live and direct
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| I never lose a battle, cause I always come correct
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| In any case I win, again and again
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| You see Lyte is at the top till the very end
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| And even though I may be short, believe, I don’t take none
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| Try your luck and we’ll see who will get done
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| I mean immediately, like quick fast
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| Don’t turn your back, cause this mic’ll be in your ass
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| And don’t take what I say too lightly
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| I beat you, defeat you so quietly
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| Sneak up and hit you like a fuckin tornado
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| Cause in the rap field Lyte’s the fuckin a/k/a doe
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| The capital L, the y to the e Shit, give me room and I’ll slay an MC
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| Whether it’s in a crowd, or on the sneak tip
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| I wax you and your posse watch you trip and flip
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| As you drop the mic, cause you don’t have the gift
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| To rip a style, fast or slow
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| (Why, Lyte?) Too busy hoein it, sniffin up blow
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| Don’t get mad, it’s just a talent I was given
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| What I’m sayin, I’m a slave to the rhythm
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| Bein that I’m dissin, I was reminiscin
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| You was at my show, yo, you was on a mission
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| (Yo, what you tellin me, Lyte?) she was ass-kissin
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| No show, you hoe, no work, you jerk
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| (Cool, Lyte, I think her feelings are hurt)
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| Alright, I’ll chill and I’ll come to my senses
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| But next time you diss, think of the consequences
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| Yo, I am no joke, I’m sharp like barbwire
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| Try to touch me, yo, you’re bound to catch a fire
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| I never lose my cool, but if I do, yo, you’re lost
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| I be forced to show and prove exactly who’s the boss
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| Who gets the income — and then some
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| I don’t diss you for the money, I diss you for the fun
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| Don’t get mad, it’s just a talent I was given
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| What I’m sayin, I’m a slave to the rhythm
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| It took a whole album for you to try and diss me And ha-ha-ha, slum bitch, you still missed me But yo, I’m off the dissin tip, cause that takes no creation
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| I’m into other things that bring me commodation
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| So I rap about funny things, or issues that are serious
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| Sometimes I rap a topic that leave my people curious
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| And other times I diss to put one in their place
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| If I diss you on wax, then I will diss you to your face
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| Some say I’m foul, and they don’t like the way I’m livin
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| But yo, ask me if I care…
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| I’m just a slave, I’m just a slave, I’m just a slave
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| To the goddamn rhythm
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| (They call me Lyte)
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| (And I’m a slave to the rhythm)
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| (Funky fresh, dressed to impress, ready to party)
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| 'Gangstress', don’t make me laugh
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| Ha-ha-ha
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| And keep your eyes on this
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| And keep your eyes on THIS
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| (They call me Lyte)
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| (And I’m a slave to the rhythm)
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| (Funky fresh, dressed to impress, ready to party) |