Luyện nghe bài hát No Gimmicks

[ ]
Lord finesse and krs-one
Lyrical styles a ton
Lord finesse, we you got skills
Come into the cypher and
Chill out, all mc I
Come

[ 1: lord finesse ]
Check it out, come on, here's your to swing
With some ill muthafuckas, we dance and sing
In '95 we
'poetic justice' without that nigga john singleton
I do my thing while the be jealin
Hey yo, I'm so dope, you tap your man and tell him
I fake moves, I scrape crews, I make brothers break fool
Just give me a with a bass groove
I'm mad funky, ask the
I make you bob your head until your muthafuckin neck hurt
So ask me to match, gee
Cause if you ain't real, I'm it to your face like acne
Now run scams and flim-flams
On how they be gettin loose when they like a tin man
They rap fast, tryin to stack
But on the reel to reel, yo, still soundin half-assed
Yellin and screamin like got somethin
When don't got nothin, so them niggas need to stop frontin
Talkin how they be raggin
When I don't know if them niggas are or talkin muthafuckin arabic
act so ill, they no frills
They should go chill, all mouth with no skills
When I'm around y'all feel
Cause I'm makin funds like shaquille o'neal, money
You want any drama? you better wear plenty
I cut that ass the chef at benny harner's
The funky in it to win it
We gotta keep it 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, tongue-twistin shit, that's kinda fresh (that's a gimmick)
What's when you're 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 screamin up on (that's a gimmick)
When your career is by days? (that's a gimmick)
What's when your lyrical style is a faze? (that's a gimmick)

[ verse 2: ]
I guess yes y'all, to the beat y'all, bring in the
Let me put my beeper on 'vibrate', so hear 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 other rappers talkin about the caps they peel
Punk, I battle for real
Fuck a record deal when you're into hip-hoppin
With your country ass, sound like you're still cotton
You get across the room in that direction, listen
The lyrical not the one you should be checkin
This is my eara, or era or eera, whatever, I'm mad
I shoop, you doop, you doop like
Lyrical terror, you should never come for mine
When I rhyme I clean up mc's with the fresh smell of
I got skills, and it
You could or speed up the tempo, your style is fake like janet jackson's nose
I'm sellin that live shit, and you could get hurt
You're sellin that fake shit like the home shopping
You got a lotta rhymes to battle in a
But the bottom line is: where's your hit record?
You claim I'm jockin, you claim I'm on dick, where's your witness?
If I'm on your dick, my name has got to be
I come with physical fitness
Two months from now you have bit this
Watch me light ass up like christmas
Don't let me out on that ass
Start the lyrics I be kickin
Be than curry chicken
So whether from the east or the west
no other krs
I got
I to your town to set it off
So when finesse 'hit it'
I'll mimick
Krs-one could never use a

When you're ridin the next rapper's (that's a gimmick)
When you're r&b, and you cold flip (that's a gimmick)
Start hardcore just to get a hit (that's a gimmick)
When yout get over, but skills ain't shit (that's a gimmick)
When you rap, but you don't soul (that's a gimmick)
When you cross over just to go (that's a gimmick)
When you're not a gangster, but a role (that's a gimmick)
What's when you shape in somebody mould? (that's a gimmick)

[ 3: lord finesse ]
Man your station, cause the clan facin
Is steppin to you trash like sanitatian
I shoot and throw rhymes, the whole when it's showtime
(what up, kid? ) know I can hold mine
On the I got rhymes skills
the time's 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 muthafuckas don't it
They see me, believe me
They all phoneys, like niggas that be wrestlin on tv
Yo, they're near pro
And couldn't hang if they was muthafuckin scarecrows
a lotta rappers sound fake
Talkin that shit, when they're softer than a poundcake
So why you're frontin the burner, kid
When you took more ass-whippins than fuckin tina turner did
You wanna so be it
But fuck beatin the bush, I just speak how I see it
Me fall off? shit's dead
That's not happenin, kid, so get that shit through thick head
I'll never sellout (what? ) you head
I'll never cross over (aight!) life
So I said it, peep the method
If I go gold but get credit, I won't sweat it
In '95 we all in it
We gotta keep it real, yo, no muthafuckin

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

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