Luyện nghe bài hát Can This Be Real

Yo, up?
King in the muthafuckin' house
Got my homeboy Young in the house
in the house
But yo

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

a screechin' halt to the snoozin'
First listen to the jam before you choosin'
And refusin', you can't hack it
You never bothered to take it out the jacket

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

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

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

Suckers front, I know it's me you admire
I your girl, set her soul on fire
I use the mic like a gun and my rhymes like
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 this, pass me the cannabis

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

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

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

As I resume with my rhymes, or I say continue
You got the to try to pretend you
Don't like what I'm or sayin' so far
But usually when I'm done you're satisfied, of

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

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

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