Luyện nghe bài hát De Automatic

Some de automatic
it out

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

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

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

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

How do you think I kick a lyrical style no and you
It's simple, I'm a rap God, and a nigga
mean I'm bigger, it simply means I'm smarter
For starters, I come at you poetically

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

Ha hah, fake ass rapper, how you think you got
When you rock a pair of underneath your bubblegoose
KRS-One will fuck up parties
My reflex'll a wack rapper automatically

you was home witcha mother, afraid of the dark
I was sleepin' out in Prospect
Eatin' one every 48 hours
Writin' dope rhyme styles you now devour

you realize, that I'm all about survival
I got only friends 'cause I all my rivals
Show up at the recitals, took they titles
From eighty-six to ninety-six completes my cycle

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah yeah, the God Fat Joe
the motherfuckin' South Bronx
With my nigga Kris, off frauds
Motherfuckers do what?
Big shout out to my nigga Parker
Ill Will, BDP crew for life
Naughty Gotto, the Big productions
Of course the TAT crew, my Brim
The T.S. crew, and the whole
South represent nigga, uhh
The South Bronx, the South South
South Bronx, the South South
Yeah, uhh