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 duel, my son
I
I see you using an old
I where you had learned it from
I wondered too
You know very well, it's too
Yo God, a duel, it's a duel
Heh, by the Gods, will you me?
Buck buck buck buck buck
And where do you for?
of the Iron Mic
You come here, since so interested
Duel of the Mic
me
In the moonlight niggaz I will
What, what? it}

Yo
Picture bloodbaths and shafts
Like these murderous rhymes tight from genuine
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 your
Herbal vapors, and papers
Smokin' Exodus, every square is plush

Fuck the screw-faced sessions facial expression
Leaves impressions, try to keep a nigga guessin'
crazy shouts, "Son, here's the outcome"
Cut across the rhymes you floss

is outdated, just like neckloads of Sterlings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

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

of the Iron Mic
(You're good)
It's the fatal strikes!
(You tell him to take the same technique)

This is not a eighty-five affair, clear
When the Gods get on to storms blew up
up, causin' the crowd to self-destruct
Killer bees are stingin' somethin' I reveal

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

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

Explode your barrier, rips the retina
Who can withstand the astonishing,
Stings to the sternum, shocked in the hip-hop
for a serum, to cure 'em

Adults kill for drugs plus the young 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

holes lace the windows in one-six-o
So the avenues that's the dream that's sold
Building lobbies are for small-timers
Bitches caught in airports, keys in 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
Regardless of the
Claims to be the hardest
thoughts, criminal minded
Blinded by illusion, it confusin'

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

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