Luyện nghe bài hát Can This Be Real

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

Now somethin' everybody can relate to
I know you to, but I feel great to
Be the man to shake you, you and make you
Stop sleepin' and I do what it to

Bring a screechin' to the snoozin'
First listen to the jam you start choosin'
And refusin', sayin' you hack it
You never even bothered to it out the jacket

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

'Cause you have no business, really in
And I have no time for that
I shoot a rhyme at you like I'm shootin' to
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 King Tee was done
No, not quite, yo, pump it

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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