Luyện nghe bài hát Duel of The Iron Mic

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck the screw-faced photo
Facial leaves impressions
Try to keep a shark nigga
Give shouts son here's the outcome

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Shit is outdated, just neckloads of Sterlings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

I ain't particular, I bang like homicides
I fall from Bed-Stuy
Where money grown on trees 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

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

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

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

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

the retina
Who can withstand the astonishin' punishin' stings to the
in the hip-hop livestock
Seekin' for a serum to 'em

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

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

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

Critical thoughts, criminal
Blinded by illusion, findin' it

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

At the of their fame and glory
They on one another
Each in vain for ultimate supremacy
In the passion and depth of struggle
The very art, had raised them
Through such Olympian was lost
techniques, vanished