Luyện nghe bài hát Can This Be Real

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

Now somethin' everybody can relate to
I know you hate to, but I great to
Be the man to you, awake you and make you
sleepin' and I do what it takes to

Bring a screechin' to the snoozin'
First to the jam before you start choosin'
And refusin', sayin' you hack it
You even bothered to take it out the jacket

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

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

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

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

Pooh puts are warned, north while you can, bub
Give up rappin', join my
I'm the rap reverend, hip-hop
Yo, I can handle this, pass me the

Pro rap artist and my rhymes are raunchy
with 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 convention
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
Right here, one

As I with my rhymes, or should I say continue
You got the nerve to try to you
Don't what I'm doin' or sayin' so far
But when I'm done you're satisfied, of course

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

I got a girl with a curl and a hommie named
smoked crack 'cause the shit smelled funny
King Tee, my alter ego, there's not to be a
Suckers try to diss me I entertain the people

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