Luyện nghe bài hát Crumbs On The Table

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

Who gets laid, the chicken or the
How the MC that has just been led
To a teacher, preacher then he got stomped
'Cause I'm a feature straight the Bronx Productions

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

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

But if they commence to try me I buy it
I'll look them up and and I'll say, "Don't even try it"
'Cause I can go on and on breathing
The TR, another form of

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

I'll spin you a quarter, drink you like water
Hit below the belt things you never thought of
I lay down the law that I am a
I roll like a tidal wave so you
like a sailboat, move like a speedboat

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

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

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

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

So now you the 808 is showing
I do damage in just one
a little message to those that tryna hang out
Just remember I give pain out

The TR-808 to a terrorizer
hiding, clever always memorizing
Poetry, history, math or even
I'm not into b-boying, just

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

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

out a gun is uncalled for
But I'm with it, so go for
You may even try to but I call it flattery
I pack volts than a Duracell battery

Charging MCs, smooth the breeze
Scott made me funky, yo, was one theme
Or topic, showing I be
Every little I play, I leave a heat wave
Burning up the industry, never try to get me

I'm the type of person that never needs
Just a sex, a six pack of Beck's
And my room to move about and a Guinness
To me feel able, chilling and stable

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