Luyện nghe bài hát De Automatic

Some de automatic
it out

Some fear de automatic, yes de
Disrespect, MC's, me nah go have it
De automatic, get de
Tonight a gwan die

Crazy MC's waste they chasin' millions
While KRS-One, holds the minds of the
I'm buildin' a followin' of a hundred and thousand
few heads up in project housin'

A rapper, street rapper, rappin' to the center
I any cipher, with tales of adventure
If rappers are beats like cars, I'm bendin' mad fenders
Put your mic and surrender

Youse a pretender, Blastmaster KRS the pavement
Kickin' while you wait for your arraignment
Save it before your chest I cave it in
I got my way again, I'm classical like a fuckin' Davidson

How do you think I kick a lyrical style no and you
It's simple, I'm a rap God, and a nigga
Don't mean I'm bigger, it simply I'm smarter
For starters, I come at you harder

De automatic, get de
Disrespect, MC's, me nah go have it
De automatic, get de
a rapper gwan die

Ha hah, ass rapper, how you think you got juice?
When you rock a pair of underneath your bubblegoose
KRS-One will up parties dramatically
My slap a wack rapper automatically

When you was home mother, afraid of the dark
I was sleepin' out in Park
one meal every 48 hours
Writin' dope rhyme that you now devour

Don't you realize, that I'm all survival
I got only 'cause I killed all my rivals
up at the rhyme recitals, took they titles
From eighty-six to completes my first cycle

De automatic, get de
Disrespect, MC's, me nah go have it
De automatic, get de
Tonight a rapper die

I spent 40 days and 40 in the wilderness
I'm hard, head to toe yo there ain't no killin' this
I wrote 100 rap hooks
And sociological books, you worried about your looks

Now you enter the dragon in sound
But I've got the live show locked down
and gold don't hold in my arena
You to keep it real on the mic, when they see ya

I manifest, in the West the East and
The vision in rap is wack and I don't know of
I represent New York to be
The South Bronx, but in I'm still gifted

I grab a jet and on your set, what the fuck?
Twenty bucks for a rap is still, twenty bucks
I start from eighty-six and bring you ninety-six
No gimmicks, or lip-sync lyrics

De automatic, get de
Disrespect, MC's, me nah go have it
De automatic, get de
Tonight a rapper die

yeah, it's the God Fat Joe
Representin' the motherfuckin' Bronx
With my Kris, knockin' off frauds
Motherfuckers wanna do
Big shout out to my nigga Kenny
Ill Will, BDP for life nigga
Gotto, the Big French productions
Of the TAT crew, my nigga Brim
The T.S. crew, and the Godsville
South Bronx nigga, uhh
The South Bronx, the South South
South Bronx, the South South
Yeah, uhh