Luyện nghe bài hát Duel of The Iron Mic

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

I see you using an old
I wondered 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, Bring it)

Yo, picture and elevator shafts
Like murderous rhymes tight from genuine craft
Check the print, it's veterans spark the letterings
moving MCs is waitin' for the editin'

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

the screw-faced photo sessions
Facial expression leaves
Try to a shark nigga guessin'
Give shouts son here's the outcome

Cut across the gloss rhymes you floss
is outdated, just like neckloads of Sterlings
Suede fronts, bell bottoms and Shearlings

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

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

of the Iron Mic
It's that ready to strike

This is not a 85 affair, clear
When the Gods get on to storms blew up
Wu's up, causin' the to self-destruct
Killer bees are stingin' somethin' while I

Science, that's heavily by the culprit
your barracks, with aerodynamic swordplay
Poison by the doorway
Minds that's with explosive doses

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

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

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

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

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

Critical thoughts, minded
Blinded by illusion, findin' it

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

At the height of their and glory
turned on one another
Each struggling in for ultimate supremacy
In the passion and depth of their
The very art, that had them
Through such Olympian was lost
techniques, vanished