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

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

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

I want a jheri curl up under my hat
The woman in my bed has got to be black
I want 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
I got to show you that I am all that
So I must, rock, the mic

Are you tired of lyrical liars, passing
Wannabe MC's but really triers
Tripping over mic cords, getting you
A total fraud, this kind of I can't afford

So I pick up the mic and kill it ill it top it
The cough is a skillet, where get fried in it
You got beef chill it, I spill it
After seven long years of ripping the party and I'm still
You call my name I think about suing ya
I to the club with that booyaka

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

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

You're full of more junk than a
Let me show you what a real hip hop

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

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

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

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

the freshest lyricist on the mic, you don't want to fuck with Kris is
Lyric for lyric rhyme for rhyme style for style I you like dishes
Either you come fully 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 crown of rhyme supremacy tastin'
And yes, before the flavor hits your tongue
You get ripped up by

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

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

I never want a jheri curl up my hat
The woman in my bed has got to be strictly
I never 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 show you I am all that
So I must, rock, the mic