Luyện nghe bài hát Slap Them Up

Tellin' it it is, right about now D.J. Premier
Is in the house and shit
Ya know what I'm sayin'? But yo, yo Kris, run that
Ya know I'm sayin'? That, that shit, my joint
Run motherfucker, it's only right kid

(Do it, do, do, do it)
Drop that bass line, you want
We ya lyrics, check it out now, one time
(Do it, do, do, do it)

When we come in all de 'nuff D.J.'s shut up, woy
Gal, will ya slap them up
When we come in all de dance 'nuff D.J.'s up, woy
Ill will, them up

MC's get ate, get broken a pretzel
And get dissed if ever try to step to
They can't take a MC loose lips
Talk a lotta shit but sink no motherfuckin'

Lyrics bigger holes than hollow tips
Watch another rapper get stiff
Just like in church, we pass the
As I preach over his

Fuck it, kick the right over
And say, "See ya, hmm, nice to ya"
Got another to see
Yo Kris, bust ass certainly

If you're get off the pot
Let the rapper rock the spot
You stand there and jock,
is absolutely ludicrous, what can you do to Kris

Chattin' foolishness, step along quick with that
It's me rippin' this for self, where ya lookin'?
I got rhymes than all the Jamaicans in Brooklyn
So beat it or be seated, Gee I'm mad

Young boy, you can't see me, run and make pee-pee
I was rhymes when 'La-Di-Da-Di' was a demo
Admit you been on my tip for and just can't seem to let go
Go, go your mother, tell her you wanna battle KRS quick
I bet the minute you get home you'll get your ass

Crazy ill mad is what I give 'em
Not a run of the mill 'em, I drill 'em, I got ridiculous
None of my you can get with 'em
Still um, um, your crew come get some so I can kill 'em

Well, I roll by myself but don't let it ya
If I got beef my crew'll step to ya
We play no games, I'll come straight to your rest
Lift up your shirt and you in your chest, well, that was fresh

A fad fill the bill, but mad skills will
Don't let me have to kill you kid, God forbid
will lead your need to succeed
But your speed, your

Your outreach is a breach of what I
For lyrical styles you're a
If I was Spanish I'd say, "You lie a beech"
Wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow

Wow, for a amateur you really hard
But you're really a bitch, when you get it
Call me, here's my
Check the list, you lack breath control, behavior
Lyrical talent, and flavor

I got no time for rhyme, you could be hurt
Thinkin' you're hard because you a gangsta T-Shirt
I'll smash wanna-be ass in the deep dirt
Black, you'll up dizzy sayin', "How da fuck he do dat?"

you're yappin' like you can't be reached
If your ain't Arrested Development, save your speech
Time to ill, I got mad skills to
Not a fake, I got more styles Drake's got Tasty Cakes

Gotta be the Gee, don't try to test me
You'll get jacked son, even if your name is not
be up front when I meet ya
Peace, uh, I'm the motherfuckin'

When we come in all de 'nuff D.J.'s shut up, woy
Gal, will ya come slap up
we come in all de dance 'nuff D.J.'s shut up, woy
Gal, will ya come slap up

Do it, do, do, do it
Yo Bronx, South South Bronx
South Bronx, South yo, Uptown
Brooklyn's in the house, lemme tell ya 'bout Island
What about Do it, do, do, do it, do it, do, do, do it