Luyện nghe bài hát No Gimmicks

[ ]
Lord finesse and blastmaster
Lyrical weigh a ton
Lord finesse, we know you got
into the cypher and build
Chill out, all mc I
down

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

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

[ 2: krs-one ]
I guess yes y'all, to the beat y'all, in the street
Let me put my beeper on 'vibrate', so won't hear it
Representin the street, concrete what I speak, yeah, I it
Let it be known, krs is not a gimmick
I grab the mic and rip it, meanwhile stallin
I raise the mic stand, because I'm tall and I keep the crowd
I'm not like those other rappers talkin the caps they peel
Punk, I battle mc's for
Fuck a record deal when you're into hip-hoppin
With country ass, sound like you're still pickin cotton
You get across the room in that direction, listen
The lyrical 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 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 slow or speed up the tempo, your style is like janet jackson's nose
I'm sellin that real shit, and you could get hurt
You're sellin fake shit like the home shopping network
You got a lotta rhymes to in a second
But frankly the bottom 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 come with physical fitness
Two months now you will have bit this
Watch me light that ass up like
let me come out on that ass
Start flippin the I be kickin
Be hotter than chicken
So whether the east or from the west
no other krs
I got
I came to town to set it off
So when finesse goes it'
never mimick
Krs-one could use a gimmick

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

[ 3: lord finesse ]
Man your station, the clan you're facin
Is steppin to you muthafuckas like sanitatian
I shoot and throw rhymes, the whole nine when showtime
(what up, kid? ) brothers know I can hold
On the real I got skills
When the time's ill I'm blowin up spots like a
Brothers front with chest out
But words from finesse's leave them niggas stressed out
They make me to my stomach
(so put it on em, kid!) them muthafuckas want it
They see me, believe me
They all phoneys, like them niggas that be on tv
Yo, they're near pro
And niggas couldn't hang if they was scarecrows
a lotta rappers sound fake
Talkin that shit, when they're softer than a poundcake
So why frontin with the burner, kid
When you done took more ass-whippins than tina turner did
You wanna so be it
But fuck around the bush, I just speak how I see it
Me fall that shit's dead
That's not happenin, kid, so get that through your thick head
I'll never sellout (what? ) you right
I'll cross over (aight!) word life
So when I it, peep the method
If I never go gold but get credit, I sweat it
In '95 we all in it
We keep 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 to get a start? (that's a gimmick)
What's when you bullshit just for the charts? (that's a gimmick)
What's when you rap, but not from the heart? (that's a gimmick)
What's when you're hardcore, then you 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 hard, but you're not? (that's a gimmick)

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