Luyện nghe bài hát Ruff Ruff

[krs-one] * voice
Think you dope? want this
Then you better come step up or off!

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

Word! krs-one in the house
Hah, everybody for some reason be a gangsta
You know nuttin about bein no gangsta

foxxx]
Worrrrrrrd up! aiyyo check out
is freddie f-o-x-x-x
And what's next

Every wan fi chat, they wan fi chat, they wan fi chat
posse wan fi chat, but ju knows dem is wack
Every posse wan fi chat, they wan fi chat, wan fi chat
Every posse wan fi chat, but ju knows dem is
Every posse wan fi chat, but ju knows dem is
They jump pon the mic, an' wan fi do it dat
But ahh, now dis a krs, me nah dat
When me open up to work, I put a on me back
Then me, fly all around the world
Krs, the artical, is not to be [*changes patois*]
with, ? with, or tampered with
Don't give a fuck if you riff
But when you say kris, derivative of kris
My eyebrows and that ass I get with (huh)
As a of fact, I attack, hijack
Set back, career, like a quarterback
broke his back, my tongue 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 to get tough [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 of the hip-hop master, freddie the foxxx
(bo!) rappers that see me, even speak, just walk
Cause I'm the nigga in new york (hah!)
I see a in the crowd that I don't like
I fight, so when I drop the mic
I'ma jump off the stage, your crowd to whip
(suckers) wanna be pimps
How I heard it said that a pimp'll his ass
If his hoe won't, but foxxx don't
Cover your chest g, you better a bulletproof vest see
Cause I'm about to leave place a motherfuckin mess
Open on the floor as I explore
that wanted to be more than number four
Number one's a hard spot; 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, don't come
Cause straight up knock niggaz off (pom! pom!)
And when the come to get me
I'ma a dead body, and bop ten cops with me
I'm and tired of hearin rappers talk smack
who's nice, and who's whack, motherfuck that
They my style, and my rep, every stage
That I stepped on - I was the rapper slept on
But y'all rappers sleepin - cause when they plant
Bombs in your house, i'ma wake you up and you
In your motherfuckin mouth, your wife out
your sons to safety, cause they're just kids
And I wanna em to face me
And when they get a little
I'ma mark them little niggaz, and put fingerprints
On the -- double homicide, call the vice
Another rapper and his with no life
Yeah you're mr. and, you're full of stuff and
And foxxx caught you bluffin
I got you in my torture and you scream
Oh God damn, it's like _silence of the
But I don't em and eat em
I mc's to the war zone, and there I defeat em
It gets much worse, with every
As the f-o-x-x-x, hurts!
Punishes, stomps, smashes, crushes,
You know my name!
Aiyyo kris! I'm rhymin enough (say what? )
Get on the mic and get ruff,

This is the year I go all out (why? )
what I'm all about (and)
I don't eat with the sauerkraut (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 that has action
Cause many mc's don't believe they're
They're lost, crazy mixed-up in identity
This is not, hip-hop is meant to be (word up)
I come unique, I can't be beat, hardcore
For the kids, with a on their feet
(kick it) I don't compete, I defeat and ya
Then critique ya, all mc's retreat, here the t'cha
suckers like smuckers
Hittin on, sittin on, shittin on, on motherfuckers
Yeah, I'm like the _aliens_
I inside your right hand man, when you think you got me
Bam! my comes out your chest
A mess of nastyness
of bloody flesh, yes krs on the slaughter
Specialize in instant rhyme style, you add water
Evian, I pull the then
Ring-ding-ding,
in the days, I wrote +south bronx+
The crew got stomped, lick two shot
Pom! pom! really it was magic's
Always diss somebody, he got put to a halt
It's wack, when a dj babbles on
up mc's to battle on song
That's wrong, but in any event, I the classic
In 1992 the it ain't plastic
know, bdp, is fantastic, burn like acid
Credit card plastic, like elastic
Love and respect is the
Bam! in your motherfuckin
Krs in the
I never liked to bitches and hoes anyway
(fi-yah!)

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

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

[freddie
Yes.. fresh.. for nineteen-ninety-two you * echoes *

Motherfuckers! brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! * echoes to *