Luyện nghe bài hát Duel of The Iron Mic

Oh, mad one
We see trap
You can escape your fate
Submit with to a duel with my son
I

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

You come here, since so interested
(Duel of the Mic)
me
(In the moonlight the strikes)
(What, what? it)

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

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

Fuck the photo sessions
expression leaves impressions
Try to keep a shark guessin'
Give crazy shouts son here's the

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is outdated, just like neckloads of Sterlings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

I ain't particular, I bang like homicides
Until I from Bed-Stuy
Where money don't grown on and there's thievin' MCs
Who cutthroat to rake

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

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

This is not a 85 affair, clear
When the Gods get on to perform storms up
Wu's up, causin' the crowd to
Killer bees are somethin' while I reveal

Science, that's heavily by the culprit
Bombin' barracks, with aerodynamic swordplay
Poison darts by the
Minds that's laced with doses

Damagin' launcher
Lunge at the youthful offender then injure any
Testin' the Masta could lead to disaster
Dynamite thoughts through your barrier

Rips the
Who can withstand the punishin' stings to the sternum?
in the hip-hop livestock
Seekin' for a serum to 'em

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

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

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

Critical thoughts, minded
Blinded by illusion, findin' it

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

At the height of their fame and
turned on one another
Each struggling in vain for ultimate
In the passion and depth of their
The art, that had raised them
Through Olympian heights was lost
techniques, vanished