Luyện nghe bài hát Ruff Ruff

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

[freddie
Yo check this out, all aside
get busy

Word! krs-one in the house
Hah, everybody for reason wanna be a gangsta
You don't know nuttin about bein no

foxxx]
Worrrrrrrd up! aiyyo this out
is freddie f-o-x-x-x
And guess next

Every posse wan fi chat, wan fi chat, they wan fi chat
Every wan fi chat, but ju knows dem is wack
Every posse wan fi chat, they wan fi chat, 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
me open up to work, I put a cape on me back
Then me, fly all the emcee world
Krs, the artical, is not to be [*changes from
Fucked with, ? with, or with
Don't give a if you wanna riff
But when you say kris, already derivative of
My eyebrows lift and ass I get with (huh)
As a of fact, I attack, hijack
Set back, your career, a quarterback
That broke his back, my tongue is a bat
Your eye'll get black, need an icepack (rrrrruff!)
I'm all that, come with your whole
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,

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

This is the that I go all out (why? )
Edutainment's I'm all about (and)
I don't eat franks with the (cause)
I don't eat pork 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 the style that has action
Cause many mc's don't believe rappin
They're lost, crazy mixed-up in identity
is not, what hip-hop is meant to be (word up)
I come unique, I can't be beat, street
For the kids, a hundred-and-fifty on their feet
(kick it) I compete, I defeat and delete ya
Then critique ya, all retreat, here comes the t'cha
Chewin like smuckers
Hittin on, sittin on, shittin on, on motherfuckers
Yeah, I'm like the _aliens_
I hide your right hand man, when you think you got me
Bam! my head out your chest
A mutilated of nastyness
Chunks of bloody flesh, yes krs on the
Specialize in instant rhyme style, you add water
Evian, I pull the string
Ring-ding-ding,
Back in the days, I wrote bronx+
The juice got stomped, lick two shot
Pom! pom! really it was fault
wanna diss somebody, he got put to a halt
It's wack, when a sucker dj on
Soupin up to battle on song
wrong, but in any event, I drop the classic
In 1992 the original it 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 listening to bitches and hoes anyway
(fi-yah!)

[freddie
Well you I like hoes, cause I'm a mack
But I like the wack tracks, youknowhati'msayin?
And for all your suckers out
That underestimate the mack, get the bo-zack
You what I mean? (word) word!

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

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

Motherfuckers! brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! * echoes to *