Convert to atheism denounce god pronounce religion dead
Faith in nothing trace my wrists with razors
I refuse to wait for the blades to erase my spirit
Death – faced with it – run to it – not from it
Swallow all the pills in the medicine cabinet
Chase it with a bottle of 151 hung mommy
Head outside the smashed windows in trash my hotel lobby
Break the grip off the time at last
I find I get to him up Wish I did more sinnin
Get a strap on run up in two women
Laid in the middle of a highway wait for pain to hit me
Still a can with people lootin screamin come and get me
Finally it was porn shop biggest gun crowded street
Blow my brains to hell – I’m gone – and let the devil come for me

I look into his eyes, but he’s so high
from the crack, he thinks that he can fly
He has problems he doesn’t like solving
Takes one hit, and thinks the world stops revolving
19, his eyes full of tears
He hasn’t smiled at least for a year
His mom is gone cause he was high one night
while they killed her, because of the crack pipe
He’s wanted by the law
because he’s robbed at least three grocery stores
He’s lost, all control
Take a look, eyes are the soul

I spit like the kids on the little bus – non-stop
Skill more disturbing than the thought of your ex
having sex with one of your parents (eww!)
All on top like the flip missionary mission
Beatch! I’m straight trippin like niggaz done killed my cousin
Been slept on, passed-over like in the Jewish tradition
Cast in cameos like I’m dressed in hand-me-downs
A step-sister, an afterthought, niggaz are shook, it’s alright
Cause I +WILL+ smack you in the mouth, I’m Jean Grae
And it’s an ill life, watchin these niggaz fall from ghetto grace
And I’m willin to fill in the blanks
Spillin slick like a drunken oil tanker
Killin off every rank in your squad (feelin me God?)
Vomitin constant drama ’til my larynx scarred (ow!)
No passin, it IS personal, fuck what you heard, it’s been too long
I’m ready to go on, y’all still in dress rehearsal
Studyin lines with understudies and clique buddies
Y’all just bullshittin, practicin, and need to be quittin

The nerve of y’all
I spit shit so thick like a swerve on a curb all and murder y’all
Ain’t shit to me (aha), rap stacked in plaques
I’m history, these wack chicks can’t F with me
We get a rude awakening, B-K bomb, I got ‘em shakin’
Def Squad, no fakin’
It’s Erick Sermon and me
Niggaz fix ya face fore I fucks it up permanently
Hit that, quit that, then burn it a B
You work hard for the cash, I make it work for me
On my worst day, see I hammer that ass
Line for line, let’s see whose stamina lasts
I’m slammin’ ya fast like Def Jam poetry
You know it’s me, the most ?
Bitches grab your notes, send your checks to me
Best to be there cause I beat down my enemies, man

This is for Beatrice Bertha Benjamin who gave birth to
Tsidi Azeeda for Lavender Hill for Kyalisha
ALTHLONE, Mitchells Plain, Swazi girls I’m reppin for thee
Mannesburg, Guguletu where you’d just be blessed to get thru
For beauty shinin thru like the sun at the highest noon
From the top of the cable car at Table Mountain; I am you
Girls with the skyest blue of eyes and the darkest skin
For Cape Colored allied for realizing we’re African
For all my cousins back home, the strength of mommy’s backbone
The length of which she went for raising, sacrificing her own
The pain of not reflecting the range of our complexions
For rubber pellet scars on Auntie Elna’s back I march
Fist raised caramel shinin in all our glory
For Mauritius, St, Helena; my blood is a million stories
Winnie for Joan and for Edie, for Norma, Leslie, Ndidi
For Auntie Betty, for Melanie; all the same family
Fiona, Jo Burg, complex of mixed girls
For surviving thru every lie they put into us now
The world is yours and I swear I will stand focused
Black girls, raise up your hands; the world should clap for us

Never does one know the force that is in them
Till some puss jumps up and offends them
Then I have to subtract, minus and eliminate
Those that try to front and try to perpetrate
Like they know me well when they don’t know me at all
Sayin ’hi’, ’how you’re doin’ and ’I’ll give you a call’
Then, to top it off, sayin they’ll visit
When they don’t know the zip code, much less the digits
Like shelly says, sometimes you have to get kuffed
Like mc lyte says, yo, you’re gonna get buffed
Each and every time you try to play me
I’m not the egg to be cracked, the digem to be smacked
So when I see you, you better be fully strapped
At all times, cause it only takes lyte one time, and one time only
I’m the microphone controller, mc sucker folder
Lyte’ll take you places you never would’ve seen
If it was dark – you know what I mean?
So show appreciation, gratitude, it is necessary
Cause when I hear weak rhymes, I am quick to bury
Those who try to know me before they meet me
You can’t grow on me, so don’t greet me
I’m sick of the prentendin and all the make-believe
Pronto, move back, give me space to breathe
I’m not a push-over, so don’t push up on me
I’m not a sidewalk, so don’t try to walk on me
I seen people taken advantage of
In situations like money, trust and love
I have no time for petty things that are trivial
Like who’ll dance with me if I can’t dance
I’m not a dancer, that’s what leg 1 and 2 are for
I master the rhyme, that’s what I get paid for
They say two extras, yo, it’s all in the rhyme
And if you look hard, you can see I work overtime
This is a warning, a due day is dawning
I thought I ought to tell you, so you can start mourning
So put your black on and your best black shoes
And keep your ears open, cause this is today’s news
Extra, extra, read all about it
(it’s about mc lyte!) the boy shouted
First time in history you thought to buy a paper
Cause I was on the inside picture on the cover
Oopsy daisy, I should be more modest
But hey, what can I say, I was brought up to be honest
Like a rican rides a caddy I’m with this beat, chief
The only time they complain is when it’s too brief
But other than that they long for me to go on
On my birth certificate it states: ’star is born’
Sample up the sound if you will
Raps by lyte, production king of chill
So watch the solar system, never stop lookin
Cause up and on the rise is the planet brooklyn
You can compare me to crackers and cheese
But don’t compare me to a sucker mc
See, cause crackers and cheese, yo, that shit is good
But sucker mc’s ain’t as good as they should
Be, see, they lack, so lyte must tax
Not much, just enough to see if they can move it
Show and prove to see that they can get into it
Try your best, a useful strategy
And after practice, if you’re still raggedy
Then and only then can you be called a sucker mc
Sucker
I hate long good-bye’s, so I’ll just say farewell
Any last comments, lyte fans do tell
I got you locked on, so now I’m gonna free ya
Okay, here we go, stop, see ya

Niggas stay runnin your mouth, teeth or shit drippin off
Bottomed-out, permanent south, some bitter cats, so fuck y’all
We hot on wax, we hot on stage
My tongue’s a twelve gauge, lips – uzis, spray the page
Y’all some click-n-drag niggas – chatroom with fag niggas
Backpack and bag niggas – play body and tag niggas
We raps best when we step in the ring
Get knocked ‘fore the first bell, hell with the clock
We dirty be-atch (We drunk)
Apani tree’d up, chillin and speed Jean up
Y’all industry skeed niggas snortin the whole ki up
And still won’t sign us, they rhyme but minus the clothes
Please, y’all just in jobs for these hoes
Yo shut da fuck up

Now I was chillin in Flatbush, mindin my own
When a girl walked up with a chrome microphone
She said, “Hey, MC Lyte, I heard about you
So here’s the microphone, let’s see what you can do”
So I took the microphone and I threw it to the ground
Cause I need no assist when it comes to gettin down
When I start to rap, she start to shake
She knew to confront me was truly a mistake
So she picked the microphone off the grey concrete
And before I turned around, she was down the street

There’s so much further to go
I feel like Mindy Cohen doing the One To Grow On
Yeah I’m old school, 40s and high tops
Triple Gooses and Travel Fox
Huaraches and Blow Pops
I’m down to earth but still dreaming
Peace to Skeme Team and all of my niggaz on the come up
Apani and Lyric, we gon’ take it there
The rest of ya’ll just taking up space, and you don’t even care
It’s like you started eating Thanks Giving dinner without saying grace
I whisper a prayer for you
’cause you cats are lost and probably not gon’ make it back
Fuck it, it’s more for me I guess
So please don’t stress it
The best is yet to come
This is just an introduction
I’m ’bout to have niggaz madder than big titty girls who getting breast reductions
The purpose of my function is to smash, simply put – trash you
Until you cry “Uncle mercy”, wander aimless in this concrete jungle and curse me
There ain’t a need for verse three I can feel it
That would rob you of your man hood, and I’m not into stealing
So tell me..

Any competition, checkers or chess
Whatever the game, Lyte’ll never fess
But did you say rappin? Cause I’m with it
I hold the title, you might as well forget it
You can put me to the test, I’ll prove I am the best
You’ll be the last coockoo to fly over the nest
Try to dis this? Nah..
You’ll be the only scarface in the place
Cause I’ll rip out your eyes, cut your tongue off
You can’t talk no more and let the bullshit walk
In this lifetime you’re no MC
You’re just labelled in bold black ink as a wanna-be
Now that I pulled your card and I read you
I should punish those that misled you
Into thinkin that you was just too good
I beat your ass in your own neighborhood
I have yet to threaten you with sticks and stones
That’ll hurt your bones

Ayo, i burn my bridges with a blow torch
a rebel born from verbal holocaust
dirty and never try to clense to get the drama off
the swiftest stealth assassin snipe you
from balcony shots of terrorist position
professional from the opera box
rhyme documents infamous like the
Bill of Right, illa tight, having niggas
open like the thrill of dykes Jean Grae,
ya koo’s a mass murderer, friends who got
the dirt on her, foes who never heard of her
wild style, my mouth gone to train up, i spit
Krolyon in five colors, when i speak i spray my
name up, split your wig up like Denny and Bruce,
splash your remains and brains out on the street
like Kenny and Juice, noose your neck and loosen
your spine from back shift your spleen, rip til it’s
just obscene, from down town swinging it, New York
illest who rip it ever, flow like a river fuck a girl
like a nigga what?

What, I oughta pimp slap your ass and make you fall against the wall
(Common: try it)
Why you in the game if you ain’t even trying to ball
I know pimpin ain’t easy but damn you barely surviving
We can’t ride together cause you ain’t driving

Over a thousand miles from public housing
loungin on beaches in the Riviera tan and doused in coconut scented lotion
wish i was there
the story’s rare enough to merit an endangered species tag
and velvet ropes surrounding every pad
I’m tighter than some virgin’s pussy
don’t ever push me
I balance on the edge of cliffs for fun and some are hanging crooked
and never look down I look to the sky
and envision the place that everybody go when they die
they say that bright lights and angels come and get you
if that’s the truth then I expect a black knight blockin the sun i got issues
another day with myself another day without wealth
there’s gotta be another way i need help
and so i pray like imma Pentecostal-Sufi-Buddist strict Agnostic
hoping one will hit it’s target take another sip of Hypnotic
and lay my head on the pillow and dream erotic scenes
of killas spillin endless rounds and all of em shootin at me

Jig is correct about Lyte being under appreciated but I feel Jean is on another level lyrically. This comparison really isn’t fair since the game has evolved so much and they come form 2 different decades. Kinda like Royce Gracie fighting George St. Pierre.

Examine the style used in this sequence
The rhyme’s the clue, the record’s evidence
To the fact that I’m hypin this episode
Cold carryin the extra wide load
The beat is fat and the rhyme is thick
All over the town you hear the sound and pick
Me, the L the y the t the e
Me, and if you see the Rock, I’m sure you’ll see
Me (Hey Lyte, what will you be doin?)
Kickin it, bashin down competition
And when I drop the bomb, you’ll listen
Boom! Now that I’ve got your attention
I’m slammin what you wanna hear
I just thought that I should mention
’89 is the Lyte year
Now’s the time to roll like a rhinoceros
Step to Lyte, that’s preposterous
I’m heavyweight, though I’m lightweight
My looks the hook, my rhymes the bait
And when I throw the line you proceed to take
The goody, the treat that I hand you
That you couldn’t refuse
Damn, I cram to understand you
Your love is to Lyte to lose

Ha the track smacks Dynamic upon the wax
Consider the facts we never let your neck relax
You need to dead that goin’ pro dream
Didn’t you learn from Baseball you shouldn’t xxxx with the home team
Come on nigga
I know you hear my voice callin’ you like alcoholic liquor
Itchin’ for my finger to pull on my lyrical trigger and bust
All up in Makin’ where I put my trust
Five seconds after my verse is done the vinyl self-destructs (BOOM)
Man I thought we told you we win treetop is sober
Makin’ Records Pumpkinhead Dynamic and now it’s over