Luyện nghe bài hát Can This Be Real

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

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

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

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

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

Suckers don't front, I know it's me you
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

puts are warned, break 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
Start with somethin' smooth, end with somethin'
See, I can rock, funk, rock, reggae or
Heavy metal or some soul, at the casa

Just to the point of a vinyl
Tee does the rappin', E the mixin'
So if still 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
Don't like what I'm or sayin' so far
But usually I'm done you're satisfied, of course

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

I got a girl a curl and a hommie named Sonny
Never smoked crack 'cause the shit smelled
Tee, my alter ego, there's 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 feel beefin', hah, the nerve of ya
I hit you so hard, it your mother feel dizzy
up, punk, the King came to get busy
(Tell me, can be real)