Luyện nghe bài hát No Gimmicks

[ ]
Lord and blastmaster krs-one
styles weigh a ton
Lord finesse, we know you got
Come the cypher and build
out, all mc I kill
Come

[ verse 1: lord ]
Check it out, come on, here's your chance to
With some ill muthafuckas, we don't and sing
In '95 we
Servin 'poetic justice' without that john singleton
I do my thing the fans be jealin
Hey yo, I'm so dope, you better tap man and tell him
I fake moves, I scrape crews, I make brothers break fool
Just give me a beat with a bass
I'm mad funky, ask the
Cause I make you bob head until your muthafuckin neck hurt
So ask me to match, gee
if you ain't real, I'm bringin it to your face like acne
Now run scams and flim-flams
On how they be loose when they rusty like a tin man
rap fast, tryin to stack cash
But on the reel to reel, yo, they soundin half-assed
Yellin and screamin like they got
When they don't got nothin, so them niggas need to stop
Talkin how they be shit
When I don't know if them niggas are rappin or talkin muthafuckin
They act so ill, no frills
They should go chill, all mouth with no skills
When I'm around y'all funny
Cause I'm young makin funds shaquille o'neal, money
You want any you better wear plenty armor
I cut ass like the chef at benny harner's
The funky in it to win it
We gotta it real yo, no muthafuckin gimmicks

Whoever make a hit they the (that's a gimmick)
You sell records based on how you (that's a gimmick)
Hey yo, that tongue-twistin shit, that's kinda (that's a gimmick)
What's when soft but you're frontin like you're stressed? (that's a gimmick)
What's when you're only rap to get paid? (that's a gimmick)
What's when you're yellin and up on stage? (that's a gimmick)
When your career is numbered by (that's a gimmick)
What's when your lyrical is just a faze? (that's a gimmick)

[ 2: krs-one ]
I yes y'all, to the beat y'all, bring in the street
Let me put my beeper on 'vibrate', so won't it beep
the street, concrete what I speak, yeah, I live it
Let it be known, krs is not about a
I grab the mic and rip it, meanwhile stallin
I raise the mic stand, because I'm tall and I the crowd callin
I'm not like those other rappers about the caps they peel
Punk, I battle for real
Fuck a record deal you're still into hip-hoppin
With country ass, sound like you're still pickin cotton
You get thrown across the room in that direction,
The teacher's not the one you should be checkin
is my eara, or era or eera, whatever, I'm mad clever
I shoop, you doop, you doop salt-n-pepa
Lyrical terror, you should never ever for mine
When I rhyme I clean up mc's with the fresh smell of
I got skills, and it
You could slow or speed up the tempo, your style is fake like janet jackson's
I'm sellin that live shit, and you could get hurt
sellin that fake shit like the home shopping network
You got a lotta to battle in a second
But the bottom line is: where's your hit record?
You claim I'm jockin, you claim I'm on your dick, where's your
If I'm on your dick, my has got to be syphilis
I with lyrical physical fitness
Two months from now you will have bit
me light that ass up like christmas
Don't let me come out on ass
flippin the lyrics I be kickin
Be hotter than curry
So whether from the east or the west
There's no krs
I got
I to your town to set it off
So when goes 'hit it'
I'll never
Krs-one could use a gimmick

When you're the next rapper's dick (that's a gimmick)
When you're r&b, and then you flip (that's a gimmick)
Start rhymin just to get a hit (that's a gimmick)
When yout get over, but your skills ain't (that's a gimmick)
you rap, but you don't have soul (that's a gimmick)
When you over just to go gold (that's a gimmick)
When you're not a gangster, but portrayin a (that's a gimmick)
What's when you in somebody else's mould? (that's a gimmick)

[ verse 3: lord ]
Man your station, the clan you're facin
Is steppin to you trash muthafuckas sanitatian
I shoot and rhymes, the whole nine when it's showtime
(what up, ) brothers know I can hold mine
On the real I got skills
When the ill I'm blowin up spots like a minefield
Brothers front with they out
But words from finesse's leave them niggas stressed out
make me sick to my stomach
(so put it on em, kid!) them don't want it
They see me, believe me
They all phoneys, like them niggas be wrestlin on tv
Yo, nowhere near pro
And niggas hang if they was muthafuckin scarecrows
Nowadays a lotta rappers sound
Talkin gangster shit, when they're softer than a poundcake
So why you're with the burner, kid
you done took more ass-whippins than fuckin tina turner did
You wanna so be it
But beatin around the bush, I just speak how I see it
Me fall off? that shit's
That's not happenin, kid, so get that through your thick head
I'll never sellout (what? ) you head
I'll never cross over (aight!) word
So when I said it, the method
If I go gold but get credit, I won't sweat it
In '95 we all in it
We gotta it real, yo, no muthafuckin gimmicks

What's when you rap and appreciate the art? (that's a gimmick)
What's when you sell out just to get a (that's a gimmick)
What's you make bullshit just for the charts? (that's a gimmick)
What's you rap, but it's not from the heart? (that's a gimmick)
when you're hardcore, then you turn pop? (that's a gimmick)
When you steal ideas to get (that's a gimmick)
When you out to be on top? (that's a gimmick)
What's when you like you're hard, but you're not? (that's a gimmick)

[ ]
Now let this be a to all mc's
And
Anyone that come the line will have to pay
Real hip hop is in
hip-hop is in effect
Real hip-hop is in
Give it
We wreck