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

You will conquer the champion
You will conquer the champion
Calm my selector

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

I never want a jheri 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 reggae and I 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, fliers
Wannabe MC's but good triers
Tripping over mic cords, you bored
A fraud, this kind of thing I can't afford

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

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

comes the rootical ratical teacha
I'll eat ya defeat ya beat ya till ya stagger and ya chatter
You'll be goin' through convulsions as I data
Any rapper can be a decapitated rapper now what's the

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

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

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 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

Of course, yeah I'm the most brilliant recording artist in your
Never have to repeat a 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

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

You see a fraud, I a fraud 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 ripped up by

Now, lyrics, somebody lyrics, from the lyrical terrorist
Here's a little somethin for you all to remember
And this 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 want a jheri curl up my hat
The in my bed has got to be strictly black
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 show you I am all that
So I must, rock, the mic