Luyện nghe bài hát Mortal Thought (I Must Roc The Mic)

You never conquer the champion
You will conquer the champion
down my selector

Adjust treble right now adjust the bass
Turn it up, stop
C'mon, it up
Alright, it out ninety-three lyrics, here we go

I never want a jheri curl up my hat
The woman in my bed has got to be strictly
I want money if my lyrics are wack
So I must, rock, the mic

I play the reggae and I play only rap
I the African, the European, and Jap
Beneath I got to you that I am all that
So I must, rock, the mic

Are you tired of lyrical liars, passing
Wannabe but really good triers
Tripping over mic cords, getting you
A total fraud, this kind of thing I afford

So I up the mic and kill it ill it top bill it
The is a skillet, where MC's get fried in it
You got beef it, blood I spill it
seven long years of ripping the party and I'm still widdit
You call my name I think about suing ya
I come to the club with that

Laughing while I'm doin' ya the crowd is ya
Gimme one month, record for on tape I'll ruin ya
Some likkle awl pon sound bwoy if rule de city
His is lookin' pretty beats and rhymes are dibby dibby

Here comes the ratical teacha
I'll eat ya ya beat ya till ya stagger and ya teeth chatter
You'll be goin' through convulsions as I flash
Any rapper can be a rapper now what's the matter

You're full of more junk a sausage
Let me show you a real hip hop artist

My posse from the
My from the Bronx
My posse from the
My from the Bronx

I never want a jheri curl up my hat
The woman in my bed has got to be black
I never money if my lyrics are wack
So I must, rock, the mic

I play only the and I play only rap
I the African, the European, and Jap
Beneath I got to show you that I am all
So I must, rock, the mic

Of course, yeah I'm the most brilliant recording in your life
Never to repeat a rhyme style twice, precise
In a lyrical drought like water to lips oh yes my lyrics will suffice
I'm nice, like beans and rice, I am

the freshest lyricist on the mic, you don't want to fuck with Kris is
Lyric for rhyme for rhyme style for style I break you like dishes
you come fully correct or the lyrics you simply makin' wishes
We got no time for fake black and dreamers blowin' wishes

You see a fraud, I mean a fraud in fraudulation
I know what it is, the of rhyme supremacy you're tastin'
And yes, before the flavor hits greedy tongue
You get up by KRS-One

Now, lyrics, somebody lyrics, from the lyrical terrorist
Here's a little somethin for you all to remember
And remember this I am no pessimist, of an optimist
Activist revolutionist, yes the artist
And the smartest, Premier, spark

My from the Bronx
My posse the Bronx
My from the Bronx
My posse the Bronx

I never want a jheri up under my hat
The in my bed has got to be strictly black
I never want money if my are wack
So I must, rock, the mic

I play the reggae and I play only rap
I the African, the European, and Jap
I got to show you that I am all that
So I must, rock, the mic