Luyện nghe bài hát Brainstorm/P.S.K. (No Gimmicks Remix)

Now we found out, some time ago that if you a whole group of really
superbad dudes, and em in together they'll make some music whether or not
somebody thought it was hip or not.
You know, be OK.
You
got to start it.

Verse O.C.

It's like me against
full verse is spontaneous, combustion thrusts me
No rapper can me
Bounced upon the with a theme, Word...Life
I cut fantasy out cause I differ from a
Wisdom deep in my molecules, you assumed
I victim to, hip-hop blues
You way off I stay on often rockin spots
on the California coast, range you back to Boston
Enforcin my theory, leavin rappers
Fly most who came and thought had stride
You accustomed to cussin and bluffin fussin for
Half of y'all crumbs are soft like muffins
I bake, masterpieces, thesis
Y'all candy coated motherfuckers stink like
Needless to say, are running shoes yours?
You retreated when I out head for wars
My set is immensely brick wall
in and out you slept so now snore
Who got my back, you ask Lord and
Unorthodox, from the masters
Mics I menace, when finished
You get an understanding of what we bringin, no

Verse Two: Finesse

My decision is precision, I'm ill in ways you vision
I got niggaz worshippin Finesse like religion
You can't around, you're kiddin
You don't want no collision, you better fly South like a
Good riddance, I flip flows you imagine
I break down Flintstone style, into fragments
So pay to the man rappin
Don't think that it can't, I'm livin proof, it can
I reign logical, verbally, I drop it in ways
that you never dreamed
So lyrically, I figure
my Harvard style, is too deep for you nursery niggaz
When I clutch the mic, I'm comin and right
I build more than workers on construction sights
I'm at it, I'm Illmatic
So yes your question if you ask me do I still have it
I'm the realest, the
Comin out the woodwork, them homos in the Village
But seriously, I'm got the
If I's at the of the toilet
you niggaz still shit on me
Originally, the same the vet
I'm on that get rich list, but they didn't call my yet
I make it like a prom night I bomb mics
other brothers are old news like Walter Kronkite
It's critical, you got Xerox individuals
But word life, it ain't nothin like the
I wreck kids, that's my theory and
it comes to hip-hop, I'm on the case like detectives
You step to the next man
the greatest soccer player couldn't kick it like Finesse can

Verse Three:

is the scientific extra-prolific terrific
mystic simplistic metaphysic, no type lyric
you hear it or hear me, runnin through the scrimmages
You see images, your sight to make you go
(Yo there he is! No there he is!) No he is
Rockin your superiors, in your area
Your skills are inferior
because your video that they cheer for ya
I'll care of ya, quickly, cause I cannot take it
Your weak head to be decapitated
you fake it
If your heart was caffeine, well now decaffeinated
You scream but it's the end of your career
you anticipate it, I hate ended, how splendid
For wack I come doctor recommended

Haha! You whassup when Lord Finesse up in the piece
All you wack ass better go rewrite your album
O.C. in the house, KRS in the house,
New style in the house, yeah
BDP in the house, YEAH...