Luyện nghe bài hát Sh. Fe. MC's

We are here to tell the just who we are
female (MC's), shocking female (MC's) (Repeat 2x)

Verse 1:

No need for, introductions, cause I know you know my and
Knocking MC's out the frame and, putting them to shame and
I for hip-hop, so I have no time for fun and games and
So just and peep the unique styles we are displaying
The just ridiculous, the lyrics articulate
good, as if a girl just touched her (tits)
Sucker MC's, I'm killing 'em, I'm so of seeing 'em
Silly (shit) when they rhyme, like that red rugby shirt by Gilligan
Plus the hat, they (shit) is
When you see me take ten steps back
I make of the pronouns, adjectives, verbs
My granny says "You had a way with words"
And that's because my word is bond, lyrics are
MC's look at me like I'm friggin' eye sore

Verse 2:

Heere comes a brother hipping on the style they lack
I've always rhymed abstract, I know the brother named Abstract
I am the earner of the in mine
the physical cause the physical will die with time
I'm to vibrate in definite proportions
Of the who need the fix (Just listen to the mix)
I just imagine non-stop for the rubbishing
Like (niggas) use the Clinton loops as if they the publishing
Ducks be bleeding from feeding on my verb
I bring the Mardi to your face
I outwit vipers in my rhyme
I can easily lick them they're victims of the subconscious race
Tossing periods in front of reps?
It's not the 187 the 360 slept
You swallow the cake from the plate of
Or you get sparked by the crew who got the weight
So recessitating rap like the do with Presley
It's the kid who peed the jeans in off of Nesley
be MC number nine, if you let me rhyme nine times infinitely I will

I let my Walkman from Sony play cassettes from
guarantees to put me on the narrow road
Ayo, that's it me, Plug 3, and Ali explode!

3: Q-Tip

When I rhyme, the just ripples
You sick, I hope your cells get sickles
You formulate into stiff (shit)
Then I bet that it cut the chit
the Ab will, be sharper than a Ginsu
Cutter or bum (ass) head for the gutter
This is not a game and we looking for the fame
That ain't the aim, we to rip the jam out the frame
My inter-reaction with paper is
So needless to say mad are left blazing
A lot of bull(shit) rhymes start to get play
But I'm to say real rhymes to pay
I'm the type of brother that writes until my knuckles get
And through the domepiece, the rhymes will
Then transported to my throat then the hit the air
As I stand dipped with the
Rhymes get slot times, back from the jack
It's the verbal constructor, MC's is wack
I make a do the bogle, doo doo brown and all
Make (niggas) jump up, drink Don, and a ball
I ainimate the unlively the verbal combat
The Abstract, the wack
of the many like Moses
Moving through, bringing games into the that pose us
That means you the sub relator of the sub
Like a I swoop down on crowns, cause confusion all around
burdens I bring to MC's who sing
They sad songs, money, the not long
on the other hand is lent me tight
The gets real, real, real

Verse 4:

Real down to Earth I hit the Long Island
You never see me tango with the horn and the
I got the kid for your mind I design it sender
made hope from my neighbors, and the
50/50 takes the "S" off my chest
Cause the "S" on my chest makes a
Settling for Superman, man, put on your glasses
Now your (ass) be slow guessing like
the menu, next on the platter
Hey that (bitch) at? (He's right here boy!)
I gotta see what I got and who I'm it with
This ain't no nickle dime game that I'm with
Mikie said "Stop riding, it be dividing
me out how I be vibing"
Packing hard like pistol but my pops got the
Told me if I need it just *whistle*
to Griff Dog for the razor
Much to Joe but for the favor
It's about a million trying to make it in this world
I'm glad I got a baby