Luyện nghe bài hát Ruff Ruff

[krs-one] * echoing*
Think you dope? this title?
you better come step up or step off!

[freddie
Yo check this out, all aside
Let's get

Word! blastmaster in the house
Hah, for some reason wanna be a gangsta
You don't know nuttin about bein no

foxxx]
Worrrrrrrd up! aiyyo this out
This is freddie
And what's next

Every posse wan fi chat, they wan fi chat, wan fi chat
Every posse wan fi chat, but ju knows dem is
Every wan fi chat, they wan fi chat, they wan fi chat
Every wan fi chat, but ju knows dem is wack
posse wan fi chat, but ju knows dem is wack
They pon the mic, an' wan fi do it like dat
But ahh, now dis a krs, me nah dat
When me open up to work, I put a cape on me
Then me, fly all around the emcee
Krs, the artical, is not to be [*changes from
with, ? with, or tampered with
Don't give a fuck if you riff
But when you say kris, already derivative of
My lift and that ass I get with (huh)
As a of fact, I attack, hijack
Set back, your career, like a
That broke his back, my is like a bat
Your eye'll get black, you'll need an (rrrrruff!)
I'm all that, come with your pack
You'll be to the God of isaac
So freddie foxxx, it's time to get [uh-huh]
Just, get on the mic and get ruff,

foxxx]
Soon as I flex, cause I'm to rip up shop
It's the return of the hip-hop master, freddie the
(bo!) rappers that see me, even speak, just walk
Cause I'm the nigga in new york (hah!)
I see a rapper in the that I don't like
I wanna fight, so when I the mic
I'ma jump off the stage, bumrush your to whip
(suckers) that wanna be
How I heard it said that a pimp'll his ass
If his hoe won't, but freddie don't
Cover your chest g, you better a bulletproof vest see
Cause I'm about to this place a motherfuckin mess
Open on the floor as I explore
that wanted to be more than number four
Number one's a hard either you fight
Or get shot, so is what I got (bo!)
Three tec-9's, my uzi, ten grenades, my razor
And I aim to get paid!
So who wanna step to this, come soft
Cause i'ma straight up knock off (pom! pom!)
And when the cops to get me
I'ma a dead body, and bop ten cops with me
I'm and tired of hearin rappers talk smack
About nice, and who's whack, motherfuck that
They know my style, and my rep, stage
That I stepped on - I was the rapper they on
But y'all rappers keep sleepin - cause they plant
Bombs in your house, wake you up and punch you
In motherfuckin mouth, knock your wife out
Take your to safety, cause they're just kids
And I raise em to face me
And when they get a little
I'ma mark them little niggaz, and put their
On the trigger -- homicide, call the vice
rapper and his family with no life
Yeah you're mr. tough and, you're full of and
And freddie foxxx caught you
I got you in my torture and you scream
Oh God damn, it's like of the lambs_
But I mangle em and eat em
I take mc's to the war zone, and I defeat em
It gets much worse, with every
As the f-o-x-x-x, hurts!
Punishes, stomps, smashes, crushes,
You suckers my name!
Aiyyo kris! I'm long enough (say what? )
Get on the mic and get ruff,

This is the year I go all out (why? )
Edutainment's I'm all about (and)
I don't eat franks with the (cause)
Because I don't eat from the tail to the snout
(well it) get on down, to the hip hip hop
I start, peace to scott larock! (word)
Now let me drop the style that has
Cause many mc's don't they're rappin
lost, crazy mixed-up in their identity
This is not, hip-hop is meant to be (word up)
I come unique, I can't be beat, street
For the kids, with a hundred-and-fifty on feet
(kick it) I compete, I defeat and delete ya
Then critique ya, all mc's retreat, here the t'cha
Chewin suckers smuckers
Hittin on, sittin on, shittin on, on motherfuckers
Yeah, I'm like the _aliens_
I hide inside your right hand man, you think you got me
Bam! my head comes out your
A mutilated mess of
Chunks of bloody flesh, yes krs on the
Specialize in rhyme style, you simply add water
Evian, I the string then
Ring-ding-ding,
Back in the days, I wrote +south
The juice crew got stomped, two shot
Pom! pom! really it was fault
Always wanna diss somebody, he got put to a
It's wack, when a sucker dj on
Soupin up to battle on song
That's wrong, but in any event, I the classic
In 1992 the it ain't plastic
Everybody know, bdp, is fantastic, burn acid
Credit card plastic, stretch like
Love and respect is the
Bam! in your face
Krs in the
I never liked listening to bitches and anyway
(fi-yah!)

foxxx]
Well you know I like hoes, I'm a mack
But I don't the wack tracks, youknowhati'msayin?
And for all your out there
underestimate the militant mack, get the bo-zack
You know I mean? (word) word!

You know
posse wan fi chat, they wan fi chat, they wan fi chat
Every wan fi chat, but ya knows dey is wack
Every posse wan fi chat, they wan fi chat, you dem a wack
Every posse wan fi chat, but ya knows dey is

[freddie
Yes.. fresh.. for you suckers * echoes *

Motherfuckers! brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! * to fade *