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

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

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

I never want a curl up under 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 I am all that
So I must, rock, the mic

Are you tired of liars, passing fliers
Wannabe MC's but really good
Tripping over mic cords, you bored
A total fraud, this kind of I can't 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 chill it, I spill it
After seven long years of the party and I'm still widdit
You call my name I don't think 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 sound bwoy wanna if rule de
His style is lookin' pretty beats and are dibby dibby

Here comes the rootical 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 rapper now the matter

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

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

I never want a jheri curl up 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 only 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 artist in your life
Never have to repeat a style twice, precise
In a lyrical like water to your lips oh yes my lyrics will suffice
I'm nice, like 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 rhyme style for style I you like dishes
Either you come correct or the lyrics you simply makin' wishes
We got no time for fake black leaders and dreamers blowin'

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

Now, lyrics, somebody lyrics, from the lyrical terrorist
Here's a 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 posse from the
My posse from the
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 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
Beneath I got to you that I am all that
So I must, rock, the mic