Luyện nghe bài hát High School Rock

Wake up your mind black it's ill
Superior use superior skill
We can defeat any bill at will
The hip hop nation will
all in society with inner city philosophy
The hip hop in me must out or die to lock in me no doubt
Executed
I bigin to shout out splat out
three single syllable per second
I am God you are God, we are God, forget it
Time to it in a lyrical battle, I'll never jet it
Like a shot to ya head I'm embedded in mind
With constant conscience lyrical
At the end of time, I'll be in my
Read the sign, men,
an oratorical shymin
I look but I'm climbin
here's the latest findin
Ya whole environment in ya mind and in ya heart
Hip-hop art
The highest level of mental expression, your part

I'm the intelligent on the mic (x3)
Everybody

All motherfuckers tryin to be large
with their two car garage just like El
It's out, fadin out, over
Talk to ya broker, time to give that Range Rover, soldier!
I ya woe onto the hip-hop perpetrator
Wholesome a neighbour stealin all ya flavour
Danger danger ya better ya thinkin
Check what you eatin and drinkin, ya breath is
with the of a snitch with information, leakin
linkin up with the enemies of Kris
But I'm already in
feelin fine while most MCs be out of sight and outta mind
Rewind cos I got a bit of time
will be wiped out by pain after turpentine
I find my rhymes mobility, creativity
positivity, of sensibility
to a wide vicinity, engulfin facility
O me, killin me I begin to see your stupidity
I way hard you can't get wit me
or go wit me or wit me
Frankly, this is wrong, people,
Forget ya off-the-head rhyme
It's way your bedtime, for the tenth time
tryin ta get mine
I went from the park with my arc in the
A spark, the little Park sparked now I'm in ya heart
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 terrorise your
Noise is I hear
you shout your rhyme into the atmosphere
The master's here!

(x2)

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