Luyện nghe bài hát Duel of the Iron Mic

{Oh, mad one, we see trap
You can never escape, fate
with honor to a duel, with my son
I
I see you an old style
I wondered you had learned it from
I wondered too
You know very well, yours too
Yo God, it's a duel, a duel
Heh, by the Gods, you show me?
buck buck buck buck buck
And do you come for?
Duel of the Mic
You here, since you're so interested
Duel of the Mic
me
In the moonlight I will strike
What, Bring it}

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

The liquid that made up the chemistry
A gaseous element, that burned your ministry
vapors, and Biblical papers
Smokin' Exodus, every square yard is

Fuck the screw-faced photo sessions facial
Leaves impressions, try to keep a sharp guessin'
Give shouts, "Son, here's the outcome"
Cut the semi-gloss rhymes you floss

is outdated, just like neckloads of Sterlings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

Where money don't grown on trees and there's thievin'
Who to rake leaves
can't breathe, blood splash, rushin' fast
Like rivers, I be that whiskey in your liver

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

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

Science, that's heavily by the culprit
Bombin' your barracks, aerodynamic
Swordplay, poison darts by the
Minds that's laced explosive doses

Damagin' launcher
Lunge at the youthful offender injure
Any contender, the murderous Master
Could to disaster, dynamite thoughts

through your barrier, rips the retina
Who can the astonishing, punishing
Stings to the sternum, shocked in the hip-hop
Seekin' for a serum, to 'em

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

Bullet holes lace the windows in
So control the avenues that's the dream that's
Building are graveyards for small-timers
caught in airports, keys in they vaginas

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

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

Duel of the mic's
(Then he be asleep)
It's that fifty-two strikes, nuh
(And if he is asleep)
(Then I wake him up)

{At the height of fame and glory, they turned on one another
Each struggling in vain for supremacy
In the and depth of their struggle
very art, that had raised them
Through such rapiant heights was
techniques, vanished}