Luyện nghe bài hát Can This Be Real

Yo, up?
King Tee's in the muthafuckin'
Got my homeboy Floyd in the house
J-Ro's in the
But yo

Now here's somethin' can relate to
I know you hate to, but I feel to
Be the man to shake you, awake you and you
sleepin' and I do what it takes to

Bring a screechin' halt to the
First listen to the jam you start choosin'
And refusin', sayin' you can't it
You never even bothered to it out the jacket

Put it on the turntable, a listen
Then if wack, start dissin'
Now I why you're dissin' my cut
So I spit in my foot and stick my fist up your

you have no business, really in this
And I have no time for that
I shoot a rhyme at you I'm shootin' to kill
And you can do is ask
(Can be real?)

Now this song, I dedicate it to the
Nothing real hard, just a teaser
For those, who told those, that the Tee was done with
No, not quite, yo, pump it

don't front, I know it's me you admire
I take girl, set her soul on fire
I use the mic like a gun and my rhymes like
I go while others go Rambo

Pooh are warned, break north while you can, bub
up rappin', join my fanclub
I'm the rap reverend, evangelist
Yo, I can this, pass me the cannabis

Pro rap artist and my rhymes are kinda
Start somethin' smooth, end with somethin' punchy
See, I can rock, funk, rock, or salsa
Heavy or some soul, disco at the casa

Just to the point of a vinyl
Tee the rappin', E does the mixin'
So if you're still sleepin', yo, ill
But when you're awake, what's your
(Tell me, can be real)

Let me see if I can bust one off
here, one take

As I resume with my rhymes, or should I say
You got the nerve to try to you
like what I'm doin' or sayin' so far
But when I'm done you're satisfied, of course

I don't or fake, don't base or sniff
rob or steal or shoot dice and pimp
'Cause I love to out with my posse and chill
You might think I'm a thug, so think what you

I got a girl with a curl and a hommie Sonny
Never smoked crack 'cause the shit smelled
King Tee, my ego, there's not to be a sequel
Suckers try to diss me when I entertain the

Hey, I'm a murderer, your girl, I'm her
You feel like beefin', hah, the of ya
I hit you so hard, it make your feel dizzy
Back up, punk, the King to get busy
(Tell me, can be real)