** intro/skit skipped **



[maestro fresh wes]

I'm a rulerthat's how I reign

I do to rap what the mona lisa does to the frame

Rid 'em and writtenmy rhymes are like rodeo

I ain't kiddin'they jock my portfolio

Played it wisehit the studio

Rock internationalnow they call me julio

Mcs have diedbecuase I have killed them

Some older than me but yet children

Some veterans knew the fear

Because rap is not a jokethis game's for real

Sucker boys cuss mefemales rush me

When I off the setmy homeboys they touch me

Wesyou ate 'em up like a feast

No need to use an uziwhen the mic's my piece



Chorus

"bang on"

"i'm murdering mc"

"bang on"

"i'm murdering mc"

"bang on"

"i'm murdering mc"

** scratching by dj ltd **

Repeat



[maestro fresh wes]

Some use a uzisome a machete

You wanna test fresh weswell I'm ready

The mind is a magnumthe rhyme is a bullet

The mic that's a trigger *bang* and I pull it

Too late for prayerdee is a slayer

Wes rocks the mics like a hoops to isaiah

The playerthe pimp that mcs are risking

You'll get decked like clay decked liston

*bang*

Where did the punch come from? 

Was it beforeor 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 mic's my piece

A bag of lsd and my dj does needles

Lyrical dope my group ain't feeble

Zero degrees centigradethirty-two farenheit

Cold getting paid if you're a parasite

Paraphraseto parallel you're paralyze

You're paranoidyou play my recordyou plagerize

I paragonthe paramont vocabulist

Lyrical ? ? ? ? ? ? paragraph can't handle this

Moveyou might get mobbed

There's a method ot my madnessdon't mock my monologue

I'm like a beast when my rhyme's releasedlike a sayss(? )

*bang* 'cause my mic's 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 clownthis is what I mean

I'm not americanmy hundred dollar bill ain't green

I'm from north of the borderkeep it in order

Beats like the freak from the latin quarter

Though I'm down with the t-o scene

I don't hang with no polo team

No charadea parade I'm here to envade

X-rateexcessescalate this escapade

I fancy girl like she don't exist

Exercise the dipwatch the exorcist

Extreme 360necks will snap

She wrote my rhythmnreceived the whiplash

Executedextractedshe's attracted

To the maestrouhhdistracted

In distressshe's hyperactive

Be jocking and still jackingyou must be wack kid

That's why allow the sultan to rap

The aftermaththe 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 hypedwhen *bang* the mic's my piece



Chorus



[maestro fresh wes]

Yeah



Like franklincolumboI'm jumble-la

I can run so lowtry to obtain my status

Don't they know how long I've been at this

Call me a new jackthat's a dis

New jacks don't rock like this

That's absurb to medon't say a word to me

I'm from t-o that's why you dun heard of me

Yesterdaybut now you're listening

'cause I'm exploding like nitroglycerine

If I was from new york

I know you wouldhave rocked to my rhythmnfive years ago

I had to try a little harder than the average

Just to get a breakbut now I'm doing damage

Think that you're a starsorry charlie

Got beef? talk to farley

'cause what I manifest is a masterpiece

Dope rhymes are released when the mic's my piece



Some carry knives some carry guns

2000 brothers in the channel trying to be number one

Looking seriousflexing posing

You rub shouldersstep on toes and it's *bang* over

You might get shafted

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? 

Too many want to brawlI think I heard it all

Hip hop kept niggas alivegave prefer to ball

Some want to partybut some do

I propagate against one of the brothers from my high school

Real sad funeralask any pupil

I speak know this before this quadruple

Some minds are so shallowroads are so narrow

Follow my ? ? ? ? before you're blunt like pharoah

The mic is my weaponwith it I ain't messing

No half steppingI'm progressing

Even when I die these lyrics will last

So roll over bethoveen 'cause the b-boy's blastin'

Show pen another gayI leave you in awe

This array could bust an orchestra

I'm the maestromy symphony can't cease

Too damn hype! *bang* when the mic's my piece



Chorus