Luyện nghe bài hát Ruff Ruff

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

[freddie
Yo this out, all jokes aside
get busy

Word! blastmaster in the house
Hah, everybody for some wanna be a gangsta
You know nuttin about bein no gangsta

[freddie
Worrrrrrrd up! aiyyo check out
This is freddie
And guess next

Every wan fi chat, they wan fi chat, they wan fi chat
posse wan fi chat, but ju knows dem is wack
Every wan fi chat, they wan fi chat, they wan fi chat
Every posse wan fi chat, but ju knows dem is
Every posse wan fi chat, but ju knows dem is
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 the emcee world
Krs, the artical, is not to be [*changes patois*]
with, ? with, or tampered with
Don't give a if you wanna riff
But when you say kris, already of kris
My eyebrows lift and ass I get with (huh)
As a matter of fact, I attack,
Set back, career, like a quarterback
That his back, my tongue is like a bat
eye'll get black, you'll need an icepack (rrrrruff!)
I'm all that, come your whole pack
You'll be prayin to the God of
So freddie foxxx, it's time to get tough
Just, get on the mic and get ruff,

[freddie
Soon as I flex, I'm about to rip up shop
It's the return of the hip-hop master, freddie the
(bo!) rappers see me, don't even speak, just walk
Cause I'm the nigga in new york (hah!)
I see a rapper in the crowd I don't like
I wanna fight, so when I the mic
jump off the stage, bumrush your crowd to whip
(suckers) that wanna be
How I heard it said a pimp'll sell his ass
If his hoe won't, but foxxx don't
Cover chest g, you better wear a bulletproof vest see
Cause I'm about to leave this place a mess
Open on the floor as I explore
Rappers that wanted to be more number four
Number a hard spot; either you fight
Or get shot, so this is 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 soft
Cause i'ma straight up niggaz off (pom! pom!)
And when the come to get me
I'ma take a dead body, and bop ten with me
I'm and tired of hearin rappers talk smack
About who's nice, and who's whack, that
They my style, and my rep, every stage
That I stepped on - I was the rapper they on
But y'all rappers keep sleepin - cause when plant
in your house, i'ma wake you up and punch you
In your 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 bigga
mark them little niggaz, and put their fingerprints
On the trigger -- homicide, call the vice
Another rapper and his with no life
Yeah mr. tough and, you're full of stuff and
And foxxx caught you bluffin
I got you in my torture and you scream
Oh God damn, like _silence of the lambs_
But I don't em and eat em
I take mc's to the war zone, and I defeat em
It gets much worse, with verse
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 that I go all out (why? )
what I'm all about (and)
I eat franks with the sauerkraut (cause)
Because I don't eat pork from the to the snout
(well it) get on down, to the hip hip hop
Before I start, to scott larock! (word)
Now let me drop the style that has
Cause many don't believe they're rappin
They're lost, crazy in their identity
is not, what hip-hop is meant to be (word up)
I unique, I can't be beat, hardcore street
For the kids, a hundred-and-fifty on their feet
(kick it) I don't compete, I and delete ya
critique ya, all mc's retreat, here comes the t'cha
Chewin like smuckers
Hittin on, on, shittin on, flippin on motherfuckers
Yeah, I'm like the _aliens_
I hide inside your right hand man, when you you got me
Bam! my comes out your chest
A mutilated of nastyness
of bloody flesh, yes krs on the slaughter
Specialize in rhyme style, you simply add water
Evian, I pull the string
Ring-ding-ding,
in the days, I wrote +south bronx+
The juice crew got stomped, two shot
Pom! pom! really it was magic's
Always wanna diss somebody, he got put to a
wack, when a sucker dj babbles on
Soupin up mc's to battle on
That's wrong, but in any event, I drop the
In 1992 the it ain't plastic
Everybody know, bdp, is fantastic, burn acid
Credit card plastic, like elastic
Love and is the tactic
Bam! in your motherfuckin
Krs in the
I never listening to bitches and hoes anyway
(fi-yah!)

[freddie
Well you know I hoes, cause I'm a mack
But I don't like the tracks, youknowhati'msayin?
And for all suckers out there
That underestimate the mack, get the bo-zack
You know what I (word) word!

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

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

Motherfuckers! brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! * to fade *