Luyện nghe bài hát Duel of the Iron Mic

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

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

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

Fuck the screw-faced photo sessions expression
Leaves impressions, try to keep a sharp guessin'
crazy 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is outdated, just like neckloads of Sterlings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 particular, I bang like vehicular homicides
On July 4th in

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

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

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

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

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

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

Adults for drugs plus the young bucks bust
Duckin' handcuffs, throats get cut dough rush
Out of foes look shook but still pose
We like real pros through the streets we stroll

Bullet holes lace the windows in
So control the that's the dream that's sold
Building are graveyards for small-timers
Bitches caught in airports, keys in 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 individual
Critical thoughts, criminal
by illusion, findin' 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)
It's that fatal strikes, nuh
(And if he is asleep)
(Then I wake him up)

{At the of their 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
Their techniques,