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

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

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

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

I only 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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I never want a curl up under my hat
The in my bed has got to be strictly black
I never want 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, beans and rice, I am delicious

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

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

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

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

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

I only 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