Luyện nghe bài hát Looks Like a Job for...

"this is a world and I'm here.."
-> _it's hard being the

daddy kane]
Nobody move, nobody get
And I won't to do no-body work
The minute I come on stage and position
A demolition, where rappers a bad decision, huh
I start to swingin it, my bad thing in it
Soon as I flingin it, girls'll start clingin it
People'll start it, noise oh I'm bringin it
To and to prove to the people
The man that really is the in it
Cause I the cake like hostess
No, not the one you play high post with
Warm it up kane, as a snorkel
Snatch the microphone and do a nigga awful
I give him the rhythm-a-jazz pizazz and yet
The flavor to jam and the land
I flip the script nobody can
It's like lack the crowd to get live
And raw all the brothers who smothered the mic
frank with force, cause you know, kane comes off
See me and the mic go together neighbors
And if that's too fast, here's a slower
You see.. i.. am.. the.. man.. to.. stand.. top.. brand..
No.. band.. at.. hand.. and.. yes I can can, yes I can can
Rip the microphone to
buck, rough and tuff, and a little bit raggamuffin
For havin a that try to battle will stress me
You address me cause you can't impress me
So don't test me, boy, I say you better move
Yeah, yeah, huh
Many tried to say I fell off
He went r&b, now his rap is all
But if you say on stage, I'll prove you wrong
And wax that ass, off a love song
Cause the street in all battles I'm still hard
Like a mallet, servin competition salad
I'm give you some damn good advice g
Break out, before there be some sugar iced tea
Cause now you're comin in the zone
no man, can withstand, or hold his own
I burn a rapper so bad it bruise
Even if you put a on the mic that I use
That won't protect ya, I still can ya
I flip the script, like a movie director
I'm makin the believe what I'm dishin up
And that's still fans, will be air conditioners
Why golly gee, I'm the
The power to maintain, and sustain, cause I'm
In other words, by knowledge and
You gotta say God bless, and I don't when I sneeze
A black man, you I got, soul
For the track and sparkin the mic that I hold
Not just been flowin for the fellas so for the
I didn't forget you.. mm-wah *kiss
A lot of rappers today, know how to
Also, a lot of amateurs pro
But if I ask for the mic at your
Aiyyo, I think you let it go!
I go in a rage on stage
The rap it never til I get my props
And if you don't know my style, well here my friend
You saw _faces of hehe yeah yeah aight then
I'm to tell my competition the scoop
That I'm down, any soloist or group
And though, some of them try to play souped
When I on stage, they spread they wings like troop
And fly away, cause I play
I slay, okay,
The king of combat, my competition
Pockets stay fat, oh hells yeah, I'm that
The one like to follow, bite and borrow
Lock into my style, just a rottweiler
So you wanna know the meanin of
Looks a job for..

* cut n "big daddy" *