Luyện nghe bài hát Duel of the Iron Mic

{Oh, mad one, we see your
You can never escape, your
Submit with to a duel, with my son
I
I see you an old style
I where you had learned it from
Even I too
You very well, it's yours too
Yo God, it's a duel, it's a
Heh, by the Gods, you show me?
Buck buck buck buck buck
And do you come for?
of the Iron Mic
You here, since you're so interested
Duel of the Mic
me
In the moonlight niggaz I strike
What, what? it}

Yo
Picture and elevator shafts
Like these murderous rhymes from genuine craft
Check the print, it's where spark the letterings
Slow moving MC's is for the editin'

The liquid that made up the chemistry
A gaseous element, that burned down ministry
Herbal vapors, and papers
Smokin' Exodus, square yard is plush

Fuck the photo sessions facial expression
Leaves impressions, try to a sharp nigga guessin'
Give shouts, "Son, here's the outcome"
Cut across the rhymes you floss

Shit is outdated, just like of Sterlings
Suede-fronts, bell-bottoms, and tri-colored
I ain't particular, I bang vehicular homicides
On 4th in Bed-Stuy

Where money grown on trees and there's thievin' MC's
Who cut-throat to leaves
They can't breathe, blood splash, rushin'
Like rivers, I be that whiskey in your liver

Duel of the Mic
(You're good)
the fifty-two fatal strikes!
(You should him to take the same technique)

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

Science, that's heavily by the culprit
Bombin' barracks, with aerodynamic
Swordplay, darts by the doorway
that's laced with explosive doses

Damagin' lyrical
at the youthful offender then injure
Any contender, testin' the murderous
Could to disaster, dynamite thoughts

Explode through your barrier, the retina
Who can the astonishing, punishing
Stings to the sternum, shocked in the livestock
for a serum, to cure 'em

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

Bullet lace the windows in one-six-o
So the avenues that's the dream that's sold
Building are graveyards for small-timers
Bitches caught in airports, in they vaginas

No peace, yo the police mad
You get bagged up, dependin' if passin' the cut
Plus Shorty's not a Shorty no more, he's livin'
of the charges
Claims to be the hardest
thoughts, criminal minded
Blinded by illusion, it confusin'

Duel of the mic's
(The master, he be dreaming, heh)
It's fifty-two fatal strikes
(Well, if he is dreaming)

Duel of the mic's
(Then he be asleep)
It's that fatal strikes, nuh
(And if he is asleep)
(Then I will him up)

{At the height of fame and glory, they turned on one another
struggling in vain for ultimate supremacy
In the passion and depth of their
They very art, had raised them
Through such heights was lost
Their techniques,