Masta Ace - What Is It lyrics

[Verse 1: Masta Ace] Every season I'm out, I'm hot without a reasonable doubt Raps in a pleasing amount I'm squeezing 'em out All this beef is about increasing your clout Hot rhymes I got a decent amount and I'm leasing 'em out With the option to own stop watching the chrome Go home little rascal and learn that poem When I mix paper and ink I'm making you think It's like pouring a gla** of poison, and taking a drink My teeth is sharp they're better to eat rappers Why you wanna keep at this you need practise I'm well known to inflict pain, like knee fractures If I wrote a book You'd be dead in the first three chapters It's a habit of mine, to put cats on a rapping decline You get shot with a knife, stabbed with a nine You're career's about as stable, as a three legged table I'll put out more records myself, than your whole label Talking all that thug sh**, like you're so able The worst thing you did in your life, was stole cable You're too lite in the a** to be fighting the ma** I leave you right in the gra** I'm lightning fast I'm nice know, sh** I was tight in the past I throw you right in the dash like a frightening crash You 're like Bruce Willis in sixth sense and I'mma show it And that's cos your careers dead, but you don't know it [Hook: Masta Ace] (x2) What is it when the sh** so tight That you can't, you can't stop do it all night What is it when the spot so hot That you just won't stop Until you drop, What is it [Verse 2: Masta Ace] I'm like a loyal husband cause I don't f** around It's impossible to get shot stabbed or knuckled down Got no place on stage with me look around If this was the HBO fight, you wouldn't have took a round Must have had a lobotomy taking a shot at me Couldn't f** with one verse, that ever came outta me Thought that it was a big game, 'till I spit blames Need to walk with a cane, cause you're sh**'s lame You're on the wrong road, you should've switched lanes I'm a bit strange and I don't skip names And you're next on the list, not a second to miss And after the party you'll probably have s** with your fist Consecutive this, put them little lines on hold I can write rhymes in the darkness, with a blindfold My sh** will still be sicker fill me with liquor Put a mic in my hand and I'll be k**ing you quicker The sh** you spit, you consider it, legitimate¨ You're illiterate, I don't even feel you a little bit Walking around with your big fitted, you can get it You're whole album's been spitted, I been did it You dimwitted, rap style's anorexic When you wrote that you should have went back Double checked it, I perfect it Sit on it like Ralph Do you understand the words coming out of my mouth [Hook: Masta Ace] (x2)