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

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

that treble right now adjust the bass
Turn it up, stop
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 tired of lyrical liars, fliers
MC's but really good triers
Tripping over mic cords, 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 is a skillet, where MC's get fried in it
You got beef chill it, blood I it
seven long years of ripping the party and I'm still widdit
You call my I don't think about suing ya
I come to the club with that

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

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

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

My posse from the
My from the Bronx
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 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

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

Who's the freshest 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
you come fully correct 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 like in
I know 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 want lyrics, from the lyrical
a little somethin for you all to remember Kris
And remember this I am no pessimist, of an optimist
Activist revolutionist, yes the hardest
And the smartest, Premier, spark

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

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