Luyện nghe bài hát Show 'em How We Do Things

Aw yeah, I got from around the way in the house, you
Know I'm saying? Yo check it out, check it out
I got my man in the house
I got my man Harry-O in the
I got my man in the house
Yo, yo, we gonna do it this, check it out

I know some brothers with the skills to rock
Problem is they don't be no spotlight
They got potential as good as any
So I'm a take out to kick it with them brothers
They are professional, crazy intellectual
Just some fellas I got to credit to
They rolling strong, know right from
got skills, so I got to put 'em on
So (what's up?) Since this is a three man crew thing
Put down the 40 and show 'em how we do

Shel-Rumble, yeah, the name
I'm a this off just like a football game
I'm stepping out my mic in my right hand
Bagging up rappers and throwing rhymes in the trash can
They play the roll like hard but yet they sit off
Put me against the best and I'll still get my off
I'm like Simon so better do what Simon says
I'm not Christopher Williams, but yo, I'm promises
My style's treacherous, it's so
go all out if a chump tries to step to this
So hear the through the speakers
I get the ladies strung just like
I'm a who's too hard to touch
Cause if you try my crew we'll jump in like double dutch
You'll get bombarded if you unprepared son
Cause yo (there's no such as a fair one)
So step, to avoid a fucking tooth
are insulated, that means I'm wack proof
You're just the opposite, you're nothing but a fry
MC coming up for a black guy
So don't provoke a
Cause you'll catch just like the central park jogger
That's what happens when cases gets
I'll you two options, step or get that ass kicked
So, jot this before you hail a
MC getting sewn just like a tailor
I get smooth, rough, rugged, raw, and
Too tough to bluff, so rough you just
Away, now can I get a hooray?
I say shit you never would have thought to say
Rhymes poured enough so we can quench your thirst
I guarentee have you saying "kick another verse"
Or, if you feel that's not style
I guarantee you'll be laid back with a Kool-Aid
On your grill, you chill, I'm for
As my rhyme fulfills Shel-Rumble got
I flaunt the on the mic the way a man should
Even old folks be (that boy is damn good)
Cause I flow so
That's why so many worship me
I got skills, but not why I'm here
I'm here to let you know I it like a pioneer
So (what's up?) You way far from fronting
Won't you get on the mic and show the a little something

Yo, brothers the mic and plan on waxing me
But since they're no match to me they can't do to me
The great rap slay rappers for fun
Bust rhymes like a gun so run son or get
My rap style may like a cashier
As I bust ass with shit I wrote year
So MC's up and press your luck
I don't give a fuck, I roll a fucking Tonka truck
I watch get silenced when it comes to a challenge
Cause the shit I kick is niggas off balance
Watch 'em fall and just like a baby
Heading for the door yelling "save me, me"
Don't attempt to attack me, just your trap, B
Don't have me grab the mic and bust your ass an acne pimple
Cause shop is simple
I mics up while Rock rips the instrumental
A part, so start up a seminar
Cause we'll bust your ass to God, you can send Allah
My DJ's no joke, and I'm hype,
So fuck around and get your turns and mics broke
I take no shorts here, ain't last year
I'm getting swift, elevating in fast
I create rhymes and kick them, will I fall victim, yo
Brothers know the rap pro can
And rap norm, off and on platform
You couldn't me off if I was hooked to a platform
I get raw like bloody liver, a rapper shiver and shake
So make no mistake stepping to the great
Rap pro, I get raw it's natural
My cousin a fade and half-moon, I sport an afro
Friends call my Harry-O, my real name's though
I scream on rapper the niggas did to Carry, so
Finesse (yeah yeah) my man, my
I know going to kick some shit

You I wasn't?
it comes to being funky I'll show you who the boss is
(Yo money rock that shit!) your motherfucking horses
Wait up, hold up, I the low cut
If rap was a game I'd leave on a doughnut
warlord, top on the scoreboard
Dissing Finesse, shit is uncalled for
Brothers front and fret how roll correct
Grab the mic and think they a threat
about all the brothers they coulda killed
I don't care if you're a New Jack or you're than Sugar Hill
Cause I slay with no
I you out, so be about your way
You can't hang, still in the slow poke zone
You're helpless a patient in an old folks home
So keep up with my further
I'll have it on til I'm old with dentures
I rock parties and the roof off of houses
Think I can't? Put money where your mouth is
Give me a mic, let me my throat
Guaranteed I'll send you broke
Fast and quick cause I'm with the gift
Give me my money I don't wanna hear
And those who rap, I don't wanna hear jack
I dust opponents in two minutes
When it's showtime, MC's don't wanna fight
They start saying (Why he have to come at night?)
It's the Funky Man the brother the new swing
Finesse just showing you how I do things

Yeah, I said
Got the brothers in the house Harry-O and
Rock-A-Lot, my man Jay, and I'm outta here like Sugar Ray, peace