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[Maestro Fresh Wes]
My rhymes are stinging like a killer bee
My cometition are wishing that killing me
For my similies and solioquies
They garbage, but I'm the largest
With the hardest style to disregard
Check your cartridge, on your tech-niques
Wes speaks, over the best beats
Fresh until the next week
I'm outlandish, I bandage the mic bringing anguish
I'm sturdy when doing the dirty language
And, it's time for me to raise my velocity
No animosity, my philosophy's a prophecy
Hipocracy, no that's the cameleon
How old are you evein(?), they rhyming like comedians
They make me laugh because they styles are scrupulous
My body is my temple, my brain is my nucleus
A great exapmle of Allah's perfection
You're moving to the sounds of my fat selection
I'm simply spectacular, smooth like an Acura
Yo, check my vernacular
You need to devote more...
Time into rhyming if you're hoping for dope scores of folklore
Creating a style and grow with it
Be prolific don't solicit
Be scientific, if it's wack go visit
The department of labour, the harder flavour
You can't savour, do rap a favour be a waver
In the front row, where the stunts go
HATA BİLDİR
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