Luyện nghe bài hát The Ebonic Plague

Ha Cru
Mic checka da one the mic three
Cru in you
Mic checka da one the mic three

Mix it up the big Y.O
Comin' the Laf Isle with fat funk flow
So yo how you feelin'? Tell me how you
Mad drug mad caps peelin'
I do my thing drink a
And I seen more Busch Dan Anheiser
Twist the of you fake John Gottis
the pump shottie, make you look like Kwame
Cru's about to the dirty understand the cipher
Got to lose so I'm-a do like a lifer
Niggaz couldn't catch up the mustard, disgusted
Drop the shit that gotcha brains dusted, it
This is how it in the Bronx Zoo ya'll
Beef up a step and style a fall
but the rough, understood?
Got me in double extra bulletproof wit' the hood
Sittin' at the bar Beck's
Plus I got the "two turntables and a microphone" on
So who's next? Ras
Flossin' ice, and that soul on dat ass
The IBF got my rhymes ranked 'cause they
Plus I'm all like Scott Pippen
it is, east west, I mean China to Mexico
If you love the way goin' down let me know
it, Harlem knows the ledge
All my Bronx niggaz the wedge, full-fledged
Uptown! we got the Cali love
Y.O.G., truly yours the Club

Yo
I was hot as 97 in '73
D.O.B. my multiple felonies see
You spit phlegm I spit
the ruins of kiosks hoverin' sand dunes
A miniature man-nume, it's National Lampoon's Vacation
I'm abductin' muthafuckin' rappers to my inner space
(What?) For
When Ras Kass get to off 'gnac, believe me
I hit below the
niggaz balls like Riddick Bowe versus Gulotta
Hell I'm a rida
nuttin' sweetie, cancer causin' like saccahrin
Action, chinky-eyed black men
An' nowadays fools forget what actually named
Besides a loyal and priceless briquettes
Basically, I give a shit how rich ya get
I'll have you in the car talkin' to
Alanis Morisette with turets
(Oh wee that's ) I like sisters with vaginas so
(Can we get toniiiiight )
Donald Trump let you shine his shoes my man
If you pissed off you dyin' your dick in your hand
Plus when shit hits the fan, I mean Ras reach the crowd
And verse to verse, switch my aura then Earth
And fuck that servin' emcees and bummy
I'm on some show me the and still educate the dummies

It's all me for you and you for me
And if ya do for two we do for three
You think it's 'bout the cash, the cars and
We livin' in the age of the plague

all about me for you and you for me
And if ya do for two we do for three
You think it's 'bout the cash, the cars and
We in the age of the ebonic plague

You see the is meshin' through this lyrical aggression
Punk's pop shit we Joe Pesc'em no
Cru session, no time for second
Frontin' or fessin', we full court
Testin', any in our way a lesson
Forever in my Stetson, plated Wesson
We ain't got no time for and reasons
Bringin' nuttin' but in all four seasons
Wanna blow my nose when I'm sneezin', wit' dollar bills
I'm squeezin', breezin'
Through your nearest wit' the frown expression
Those streets left a lastin' impression
Now think about this, imagine Cru
Like this world with no clock timeless
Pure dope when it come to the
Stay on the low wit' a dime adorable
Got the rap shit covered long johns
Big brother Ant taught me how to bear
L.A. to D.C. I my P.C
Keeps me a of B.C
And we gon' drink to your pass peeps that flashed
Never no more, when I I blast he
Think you could deal? You than Bjork
up on Fantasy Isle with Mr. Rourke