Luyện nghe bài hát High School Rock

Wake up your black people it's ill
Superior people use skill
We can defeat any congressional bill at
The hip hop nation prevail
all problems in with inner city philosophy
The hip hop in me must come out or die to lock in me no
Executed
I bigin to out splat out approximately
three single syllable per second
like I am God you are God, we are God, it
to sell it in a lyrical battle, I'll never jet it
Like a shot to ya head I'm in your mind
With constant lyrical rhyme
At the end of time, I'll be in my
Read the sign, men,
an oratorical shymin
I look still but I'm
here's the latest findin
Ya whole created in ya mind and in ya heart
Hip-hop art
The highest of mental expression, play your part

I'm the wise on the mic (x3)
knows

All motherfuckers tryin to be large
their two car garage just like El DeBarge
It's played out, out, over
Talk to ya broker, time to give that Range Rover, soldier!
I told ya woe onto the perpetrator
Wholesome like a neighbour all ya flavour
Danger ya better rearrange ya thinkin
Check you eatin and drinkin, ya breath is stinkin
the stench of a snitch with information, leakin
linkin up with the enemies of speakin
But I'm already in
fine while most MCs will be out of sight and outta mind
Rewind cos I got a little bit of
will be wiped out by pain after turpentine
I find my rhymes mobility, creativity
positivity, of sensibility
to a wide vicinity, engulfin your
O silly me, killin me I to see your stupidity
I rock way you can't get wit me
or go wit me or wit me
Frankly, is wrong, people, poetry
Forget ya off-the-head rhyme
It's way past your bedtime, for the time
forget tryin ta get
I went from the park with my arc in the
A simple spark, the little Park sparked now I'm in ya
you think I'm comin one way, I come another way
If you ain't got no fly rhymes, say
Run away, run away, run away....little boy
Like the TAT crew I your toys
Noise is I hear
when you shout rhyme into the atmosphere
The master's here!

(x2)

Now which motherfucker their title tooken, defended
I see my it's open-ended
I can somethin around like ya booty ass sound, beginner
What happened? You couldn't be an Amatuer Night winner?
Now the teacher you
Don't you know I am that lyrical keeper
get railed like the sleeper
No tha, no peep mine, no peep this hard style
that keeps the party floatin like a foetus,
you hold your head, you can't this godchild
This *?sins?* recommend ya and because not fertile
or {pronounced "fertil"}
Your reflex's slow a turtle
Yeah my picture you circle from and journals
Without rehearsal, is first all?* is the worst
I verse, I sua
Into a million
in Tiananmen
Willing and illing, comin thru the ceiling
Enough of this reteric start building