Luyện nghe bài hát Show 'em How We Do Things

Aw yeah, I got brothers from the way in the house, you
what I'm saying? Yo check it out, check it out
I got my man in the house
I got my man in the house
I got my man Rock-A-Lot in the
Yo, yo, we gonna do it this, check it out

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

Shel-Rumble, yeah, the name
I'm a kick off just like a football game
I'm stepping out with my mic in my right
Bagging up rappers and throwing their in the trash can
They play the roll they hard but yet they sit off
Put me against the best and I'll still get my off
I'm like Simon so you'd better do what Simon
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 the flavor through the speakers
I get the ladies strung like sneakers
I'm a brother who's too hard to
if you try my crew we'll jump in just like double dutch
You'll get if you come unprepared son
Cause yo (there's no thing as a fair one)
So step, to avoid a crack tooth
Rhymes are insulated, that means I'm proof
You're just the opposite, nothing but a small fry
Weak MC coming up for a guy
So don't a saga
Cause you'll catch amnesia just like the central park
That's what when cases gets drastic
give you two options, step or get that ass kicked
So, jot this before you hail a
MC getting shit sewn like a tailor
I get smooth, rough, rugged, raw, and
Too tough to bluff, so rough you drift
Away, now can I get a hooray?
I say shit you never would have thought to say
Rhymes poured just enough so we can quench thirst
I I'll have you saying "kick another verse"
Or, if you feel not your style
I guarantee you'll be laid back with a smile
On your grill, you chill, I'm for
As my rhyme fulfills Shel-Rumble got
I the gift 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 motherfuckers worship me
I got skills, but not why I'm here
I'm here to let you know I it like a pioneer
So Harry-O (what's up?) You way far from
Won't you get on the mic and show the people a something

Yo, brothers grab the mic and plan on me
But since they're no match to me they do jack to me
The great rap pros rappers for fun
rhymes like a gun so run son or get done
My rap style may change a cashier
As I bust ass with shit I last year
So step up and press your luck
I don't give a fuck, I like a fucking Tonka truck
I watch MC's get silenced when it comes to a
Cause the shit I kick is knocking off balance
'em fall and crawl just like a baby
Heading for the door yelling "save me, me"
attempt to attack me, just shut your trap, B
Don't have me grab the mic and your ass like an acne pimple
ripping shop is simple
I tear mics up while Rock rips the
A part, so don't start up a
Cause we'll bust your ass word to God, you can send
My DJ's no joke, and I'm hype,
So fuck around and get turns and your mics broke
I take no here, this ain't last year
I'm getting swift, elevating in gear
I create and kick them, never will I fall victim, yo
Brothers know the rap pro can
And rap norm, both off and on
You couldn't me off if I was hooked to a platform
I get raw like bloody liver, a rapper shiver and shake
So no mistake you're stepping to the great
Rap pro, I get raw cause it's
My cousin a fade and half-moon, I sport an afro
Friends call my Harry-O, my real Harry though
I scream on like the niggas did to Carry, so
(yeah yeah) my man, my cousin
I you're going to kick some shit

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

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