Nat "Gizmo" Robinson - 10% Dis lyrics

[Verse 1] Hot damn, hot damn, hot damn, hot damn, hot damn Hot damn ho, here we go again s**ers 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 s**er I thought I oughta tell you, better yet warn That I am like a stock and my word is bond Like James, k**ing 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... [Hook x2] Beat biter, dope style taker Tell you to your face you ain't nothing but a faker [Verse 2] 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 [Hook] [Verse 3] 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 f**ing 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 [Hook] [Verse 4] 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 s**er 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 a**ure, you know I don't play When it comes down to it, the nitty gritty For a s**er like you I feel a whole lot of pity [Hook]