(They call me Lyte)
(And I'm a slave to the rhythm)
(Funky fresh, dressed to impress, ready to party)
[ VERSE 1 ]
I'm not a procrastinator, or a instigator
But when it comes to dope rhymes on the mic, I'm the creator
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
And when I rock a rhyme, sometimes I leave you chokin
I'm MC Lyte, comin live and direct
I never lose a battle, cause I always come correct
In any case I win, again and again
You see Lyte is at the top till the very end
And even though I may be short, believe, I don't take none
Try your luck and we'll see who will get done
I mean immediately, like quick fast
Don't turn your back, cause this mic'll be in your ass
And don't take what I say too lightly
I beat you, defeat you so quietly
Sneak up and hit you like a fuckin tornado
Cause in the rap field Lyte's the fuckin a/k/a doe
The capital L, the y to the e
Shit, give me room and I'll slay an MC
Whether it's in a crowd, or on the sneak tip
I wax you and your posse watch you trip and flip
As you drop the mic, cause you don't have the gift
To rip a style, fast or slow
(Why, Lyte?) Too busy hoein it, sniffin up blow
Don't get mad, it's just a talent I was given
What I'm sayin, I'm a slave to the rhythm
[ VERSE 2 ]
