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

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

Adjust that treble 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 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 you that I am all that
So I must, rock, the mic

Are you tired of lyrical liars, fliers
MC's but really good triers
Tripping mic cords, getting 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, blood I it
After seven long years of ripping the party and I'm still
You call my name I don't about suing ya
I come to the club with booyaka

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

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

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

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

I never a jheri curl up under my hat
The in my bed has got to be strictly black
I never want money if my 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 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 a rhyme style twice, precise
In a lyrical drought like water to your lips oh yes my lyrics will
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 style for style I break you like
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 know what it is, the of rhyme supremacy you're tastin'
And yes, before the hits your greedy tongue
You get ripped up by

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

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

I never want a 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 only 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