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 wondered where you had learned it
I wondered too
You know very well, yours too
Yo God, it's a duel, it's a
Heh, by the Gods, will you me?
Buck buck buck buck buck
And where do you come
Duel of the Mic
You here, since you're so interested
Duel of the Mic
me
In the moonlight niggaz I strike
What, Bring it}

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

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 sessions facial expression
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is outdated, just like neckloads of Sterlings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 Shearlings
I ain't particular, I bang like homicides
On 4th in Bed-Stuy

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

Duel of the Mic
(You're good)
It's the fifty-two strikes!
(You tell him to take the same 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
Killer are stingin' somethin' while I reveal

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

lyrical launcher
Lunge at the youthful then injure
Any contender, the murderous Master
lead to disaster, dynamite thoughts

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

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

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

No peace, yo the police mad
You get bagged up, dependin' if you're the cut
Shorty's not a Shorty no more, he's livin' heartless
Regardless of the
to be the hardest individual
Critical thoughts, minded
Blinded by illusion, it confusin'

Duel of the iron
(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)
that fifty-two fatal strikes, nuh
(And if he is asleep)
(Then I wake him up)

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