Luyện nghe bài hát Freestyle -

Yo, yeah,
Yo
Yo, the lyrical lexicon
The matador of
Keith Murray
Chillin with my Funk Flex
up
Got the Squadron, up
Word up, it out, check
Now, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo
the return of the lyrical lunatic, still kickin rough shit
What you say? I slap your stink ass,
I shape and build my skill like an
style, rhymes be Gortex
I'm the highest exalted on the mic with props
All this over hippin the hop bullshit stop
It Keith not Bill, Murray not Sweat
politics be politically incorrect
We it hot like sauce, flows be definite like well OF COURSE
Def Squad cough a course
You wack niggaz can't do me none
Five hundred, radiant height I run the sun
Apparently, you need to my pedigree
And do the to the S-C-I-E-N-C-E
Fake fear it, real ones cheer it
Cause they all feel me from the of the human spirit
With logic and reasons I my means
See you on the scene, fuck you up Tyson did to Mitch Greene
In fact black yeah it beez that
If you my dog I'm a slay your cat
The supersonical genitonical
Splatter crews, all you hear is and oohs
Time to face the music bring you to Earth like Papa Smurf
I'm World like on the Web, in your turf
With full fledged raps packed anxiety attacks
For those who I wouldn't be back
With that bone chillin horror, all ongoin drama
Save the rah rah for mama
Bragga-tocious, to static
Come through the studio, wreck the mic by of habit
Tantalizing, make you feel good crying
I can't be dissed, so you can trying
And Keith will prevail
And you can eat a shit sandwich and go to