Luyện nghe bài hát Duel of The Iron Mic

Oh, mad one
We see trap
You can never escape your
Submit with to a duel with my son
I

I see you an old style
I wondered where you'd learned it
You know well, it's yours too
Heh, by the Gods, you show me?
And what do you come
(Duel of the Mic)

You here, since you're so interested
(Duel of the Mic)
me
(In the the tiger strikes)
(What, Bring it)

Yo, picture bloodbaths and elevator
Like these murderous rhymes from genuine craft
the print, it's where veterans spark the letterings
Slow moving MCs is for the editin'

The liquid that made up the chemistry
A gaseous element, that down your ministry
Herbal vapors and papers
Smokin' exo-dust, every yard is plush

the screw-faced photo sessions
Facial leaves impressions
Try to keep a shark guessin'
Give crazy shouts son the outcome

Cut across the semi gloss rhymes you
Shit is outdated, like neckloads of Sterlings
fronts, bell bottoms and tri-colored Shearlings

I ain't particular, I like vehicular homicides
I fall from Bed-Stuy
Where money don't grown on trees and thievin' MCs
Who cutthroat to rake

They can't breathe, blood splash, rushin' fast like runnin'
I be that in your liver

Duel of the Mic
It's that fifty-two ready to

is not a 85 affair, made clear
When the get on to perform storms blew up
Wu's up, the crowd to self-destruct
bees are stingin' somethin' while I reveal

Science, that's heavily guarded by the
Bombin' your barracks, with aerodynamic
darts by the doorway
Minds laced with explosive doses

Damagin' lyrical
at the youthful offender then injure any contender
Testin' the murderous Masta lead to disaster
Dynamite thoughts explode through your

Rips the
Who can withstand the astonishin' punishin' to the sternum?
Shocked in the livestock
Seekin' for a to cure 'em

Adults kill for drugs plus the young bust
Duckin' handcuffs, throats get cut dough rush
Out of town foes look shook but still
We move like real pros through the streets we

Bullet lace the windows in 1-6-oh
So the avenues that's the dream that's sold
Building lobbies are for small-timers
caught in airports, keys in they vaginas

No peace, yo the police mad
You get bagged up, dependin' if you're the cut
Plus shorty's not a shorty no more, he's livin'
Regardless of the charges, to be the hardest individual

Critical thoughts, minded
Blinded by illusion, findin' it

of the Iron Mic
It's that fifty-two to strike
Duel of the Mic
It's that ready to strike

At the height of their fame and
They on one another
Each in vain for ultimate supremacy
In the passion and depth of struggle
The art, that had raised them
such Olympian heights was lost
Their techniques,