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

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

Adjust treble right now adjust the bass
Turn it up, frontin'
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 never want if my lyrics are wack
So I must, rock, the mic

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

Are you of lyrical liars, passing fliers
Wannabe but really good triers
Tripping mic cords, getting you bored
A total fraud, this of thing I can't afford

So I pick up the mic and kill it ill it top it
The cough is a skillet, MC's get fried in it
You got beef chill it, blood I it
After seven long years of ripping the party and I'm still
You call my name I don't think suing ya
I come to the club with booyaka

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

comes the rootical ratical teacha
I'll eat ya defeat ya ya till ya stagger and ya teeth chatter
You'll be goin' convulsions as I flash data
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 posse from the
My posse from the
My posse the Bronx

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

I play only the reggae and I play 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 have to a rhyme style twice, precise
In a lyrical drought like water to your lips oh yes my lyrics will
I'm nice, beans and rice, I am delicious

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

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

Now, lyrics, somebody want lyrics, the lyrical terrorist
a little somethin for you all to remember Kris
And remember I am no pessimist, more of an optimist
revolutionist, yes the hardest artist
And the smartest, Premier, this

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

I never a jheri curl up under my hat
The woman in my bed has got to be black
I never want money if my lyrics are
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