Luyện nghe bài hát NYC Street Corner Battle

[thug] I told you fuckin guy man
Yo man, yo B, this is my fuckin block, get the off

[Keith] the fuck up
You had a fuckin green card in your fuckin life
You don't any means to make money

What? What the fuck you talkin bout mayn?

[Keith] You stupid, plantella Adidas motherfucker
[thug] Night Live, John Travolta ass motherfucker
Suck my dick
[thug] You fuckin spaghetti and meatball motherfucker
[Keith] You don't any fuckin knowledge
[thug] you man, conio man, suck my dick man
[Keith] Little Italy ay, you don't know the.. real estate man
[thug] Fuck you man, what the fuck you wanna do
[thug] You wanna do somethin mayn? You wanna do mayn?
[thug] Take this {*POP*} take this mayn {*POP*}
Take this mayn {*POP POP*} dead now!

[Tim
Here we go with some new shit, the bullshit
Bronx niggaz shit, cause we always pull quick, what?
Motherfucker back up, you know
Put two in your gut, POP POP what, now 'em up
Mad niggaz wanna have this, status
I'm as the motherfuckin rhymin apparatus
The fattest, MC of the era, cause
Could niggaz with this? Never, but however
Many try to apprehend, they can't comprehend
Cause they step to me they don't win
I bend, break MC's who the funk
Leavin wack rappers in the back of my
Then eat rat poison and I drink some ammonia
Came out bein that felonious
serial killer, that you know, as
around with Dog and get slammed like a sumo
"Waitin to Exhale" Whitney, you can't get wit me
I see that nigga from Uptown, who bit me
Bitin, never writin, not excitin
I'm invitin, all y'all suckers who fightin
So come on, IT ON, bring your weapon
No it's not rainin but you still gettin
Smash your fuckin ass like a Savage, I'm
don't want no beef cause I keep the tec handy
Shoot you from head to your toe
You so many holes in your shit it spells act like you know

[unknown MC]
I thought you knew motherfuckers..
Now take a second while I reveal myself the industry
By lyrical chokin teacher provokin MC
the way for me, unique, delete the weak
As I defeat the claim to be sweet, by keepin it
Lazy poet and I don't got to have tactics to turn fake rappers
and crack addicts, tell the hit from my bomb shit
Ooooh! Damn, no stress or contest, the
I stand on top of them, no doubt about it, I'm
Got a train of focus, e'ry track I smoke
is nice, six I'm causin a ruckus
You fuck with us, known for keepin it true
Not fakin the funk like bustaz, so you gonna do?
I address, I'm better than
Mo' potent stress, now try to test, nigga!

Keith]
Yeah fuck y'all motherfuckers who need y'all album
to you got skills, suck this

I'm makin rappers load they apples pack up, they wagons
My style like Bruce Lee, MC's into the +Dragon+
My bald head sharp, I walk like Telly Savales
on a tightrope, they style is off balance
Hyper mental like Larry Davis on the
Rappers poodle, but I'ma drop the kennel
No threats; don't sleep on me you slept on Bernard
With a Berkowitz twist, projects heard of this
My unique retarded, kids smell the piss
With grenades I cut your rectum out with razor blades
Emergency please, gorillas bleedin through they
My style - AOWWWWWWWWWW!
I howl on your elevator, open your door, see you
I sticks of dynamite, open your mailbox
Don't look for guns, I paid crackheads for yo' glocks
Your style berback(?), lion tiger
No need to worry low prices call me Crazy
I put the head to sleep and send that brain to
I'm outtie.. five eight