Luyện nghe bài hát Slap Them Up

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

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

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

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

make bigger holes than hollow tips
Watch another rapper body get
Just in church, we pass the basket
As I preach his casket

Fuck it, kick the body right
And say, "See ya, hmm, to know ya"
Got another to see
Yo Kris, that ass certainly

If shiverin' get off the pot
Let the original rapper the spot
You stand and jock, goin'
This is absolutely ludicrous, can you do to Kris

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

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

Crazy ill mad styles is I give 'em
Not a run of the mill 'em, I drill 'em, I got rhythm
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 but don't let it fool ya
If I got beef my damn step to ya
We don't no games, I'll come straight to your rest
Lift up your and blast you in your chest, well, that was fresh

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

outreach is a breach of what I teach
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 a bitch, when you get it together
Call me, here's my
Check the list, you breath control, mental behavior
Lyrical talent, and flavor

I got no time for amateur rhyme, you be hurt
Thinkin' you're hard you wear 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?"

'Cause you're yappin' like you be reached
If your name ain't Development, save your speech
Time to ill, I got mad to fill
Not a fake, I got styles than Drake's got Tasty Cakes

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

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

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