Luyện nghe bài hát Crumbs On The Table

Is that a turntable? Well, get on it it's turn

Who laid, the chicken or the egg?
How about the MC has just been led
To a renegade teacher, preacher he got stomped
'Cause I'm a feature straight from the Bronx

known as Boogie Down
If I was a king now, I'd get crowned
The is a teacher, not a prince or a rap lord
I even my rhymes on a blackboard

To get to probably make you understand
What the 808 plan
It's simple, I'm a round it off this
That's how many stupid MCs I've

But if commence to try me I won't buy it
I'll look them up and down and I'll say, "Don't try it"
I can go on and on without breathing
The TR, another form of

MCs Chunky, moving real bluntly
and baking MCs like a junky
Fiending, hitting MCs like was cocaine
Calling them John Doe, meaning they have no

I'll spin you like a quarter, drink you like
Hit below the belt with things you thought of
I lay down the law that I am a
I roll like a wave so you oughta
Float like a sailboat, move like a

In water, now you soak
Into a rhyme of mine until you hit the
It's like an anchor, it's no problem
For me to just bake you, eat you like a

I am a professional, boy, you're just a
I'm here to sing a but some are not able
Compared to me just crumbs on the table

In my prime, more vocal than I've ever
I'm not an amateur, sort of like a
Split from the bums, from a long trip
Now I'm back to cold rip

MCs like confetti, eat 'em spaghetti
I chill for a but yet I'm still ready
To house MCs, sink 'em a boat will
I roll heavy, thick oatmeal

So now you the 808 is showing
I do damage in one moment
Here's a little message to that tryna hang out
Just remember that I pain out

The TR-808 relates to a
Never hiding, always memorizing
Poetry, history, or even paragraphs
I'm not into b-boying, hoeing

Showing, MCs like the wind does
I might lay you, sort of like a hen
your rhymes are weak and unstable
Compared to me you're crumbs on the table

You better before you even get soup
put you on the corner and sell you like a prostitute
Like a street whore, make you more and more
you to the side, up and down like a seesaw

Pulling out a gun is for
But I'm it, so go for yours
You may try to diss but I call it flattery
I pack more volts than a battery

Charging MCs, like the breeze
Scott me funky, yo, that was one theme
Or topic, I be rocking
Every little city I play, I leave a heat
Burning up the industry, try to get with me

I'm the type of that never needs rehearsing
Just a little sex, a six pack of
And my room to move about and a Stout
To make me feel able, and stable

I'm on the mic
Sometimes I'm on the
I'm superb, sort of herb
A man of my and I've never been served