Luyện nghe bài hát Brief Description

[Sample: "Have you it? Sing along.
If you didn't hear it gonna hear it right now."]

Bam, the way opened for me
I saw and told the story
Raw day dreams of glory
high,
Hall way
faggot MCs
Beat boxin', Zulu Nation wannabees
It didn't long to see who would stay strong
school upon
Some B-Boys put gang bangs on
But some on doing
Step on to
Others that pursuing the same shit we thought we ruled in
But what a
The passion for the best
a quest for allies to rest

In the where heads
Is just a full
In a of gangstas
Players, replacements, priests,
We
To break MCs that may it
Guided by their insecurity and their hatred
Separated by the props technique
And a desire to be the tops week
I gotta floss the
talk is cheap
Even the broke kids can it
why I stand close and if you're dope then I'm supportive
But if not
We'll keep the mic
For the one
the artform
And make your on the stars born

the movement
Fact checkin' tryin' to completely avoid all channels of
From the lines of paint on the
They on Lake Street
To the way we our eyes to sleep
And drift through Deep 9 type shit
To find
I've around for as long as sound
I've been to that not so fresh
And not so serious state but I've evolved
manifestate

I used to be young, dumb and of vision
it was religious rituals
I initial decisions
I wanted to be a world renown
From to the Bronx
girls in crowns
Snap, crackle and
what I found
The abyss that sits in-between the one that the mic and those that
don't even
Formed some
Rocked talent at schools
on the 18 make my way down to the record pool
I met a of people that was bullshit
Was with a lot of people that was bullshit
But I pull shit from the asshole of an angel before I let him and

The love between me the mic and the turntable
Went to
We to make demos
We want to do shows and rock our own
Do our own
Fuckin' around this kid Kazir
Nitwit
Barely his own equipment, Atmosphere
The prefix was
shows
Made friends made
Overall we made
And now as I sit here writing this
I'm buggin' off the people in my life made me like this

Within the
Fact
Tryin' to avoid all channels of backsteppin'
From the of painted concrete
that on Franklin Ave
To the bird on the elevator
To short in your cross fader
I got lost later
For to pester
Just throw your up in the air like a leper
I've to that not so fresh faze
And to not quite so serious state
Metamorph

sometimes it rings and I don't answer it
That's it no
No to find the circumstances
It was planted in me
It was and it grew
Gave it and nutrition
It was efficient let it
There are a few that have developed when I let in my spectrum
For the of em
I give them just enough to cause
Not trippin' on
But if you ? it's
Open arms charms
I the words and I can spell them
is it
When one
Do they leave with this
In fact most begin the business
Bringin' me to the
it no more no less
The the life the stress
Slug, the mic, the

Yes, I've been tested and tested some
I'm not I'm the best
I'm not
Like the of em
Just I'm better than you
my mind state
My take me into
I check one two
I guess do get pissed
But intentions were to
Built the empire I get tired
The ones that me down don't know it
But they're the same that build me
Now quietly in your say, "Yes you can feel me."

"Asking himself, even before the curtain goes up, what am I?
I am now 80 old, and more, and I am determined to find precisely
what I am, what I amount to. They tell me I am everything, flatter
me everyday, of my life. I am now going to subject to a rigorous
test in order to find out really I am. I don't care about FREEDOM? I don't
about rule, anymore. It is of no importance to me, as such, but I
find out what I am I die."]