Luyện nghe bài hát Too Many Rappers

Mic check, mic

One, one, two, two, three,
Too rappers, and there's still not enough emcees
It three, three, two, two, one, one
MCA, Ad-Rock, Mike D, that's how we get it like

Ladies and gents attention, Nas in the
With Beastie Boys, we can it out
Perpetrators, we can 'em out
So if you got somethin' on mind, let it out

Yo, I been in the game since before you was
I might still be emceein' even after gone
thought, I know, but my skills still grow
The 80's, the 90's, 2000's, and so

On and on until the crack of
the year 3000 and beyond
Stay up all night, and I emcee and die
'Cause is the cousin of sleep

Because I'm back a bang boogie, oogie oogie
Strawberry letter 23 Shuggie
Oh, my God, look at me
Grandpa been since '83

Oh, I'm supersonic J.J. Fad
Got crazy ass pullin' out the bag
Don't forget the tartar sauce, yo, 'cause sad
All these rappers, they're rappin' like crabs

I carte blanche, the vagabond
Nas is the narcissist, my are rotund
I'm no killa, but to you, I'm more real'a
You ain't a shot, a mobster, or a drug

A slug peeler, not, mafioso, no
You got the cutthroat in ya, beginner
I ain't tryin' to hear your
You with police dog, you snitch, you rat, you wear that jacket

How rappers must get dissed
Gimme eight bars, and watch me bless
I to reminisce, oh, when I miss
The real hip hop with which I

Like rum in mojitos, bullets and
Matzah balls in soup, jackets and
Yes, y'all, is one for the history books
Nasty Nas, what's the word, it off on the hook

Let's go! One, one, two, two, three,
Too rappers, and there's still not enough emcees
It three, three, two, two, one, one
MCA, Ad-Rock, Mike D, that's how we get it done

Ladies and gents attention, Nas in the
Beastie Boys, we can turn it out
Perpetrators, we can 'em out
So if you got on your mind, let it out

this the type of lyric goes inside your brain
To blow you bullshit straight out the frame
My lyrics spin like a hurricane twister
So get your hologram on off of Blitzer

Too many rappers to a stick at
I outta charge a tax for every rap
I had to listen to we be makin' stacks
Like Stax Records, my squad we gotta pack, we coming whack

To all you crab rappers and
And Circuit Fenders, two-tone
I the cake, I stole the mold

The golden microphone, well that's to hold
And why all these all up in my crotch space?
Sniffin', puffin', huffin', and mean with a Blimpie Bluffin
Back up off me, sucka, you ain't sayin'

I'm than Broadway, I was in project hallways
Dual tape recorder, lacin' all day
I'm just getting started on this beat, is foreplay
And when this finished, y'all can sing along with this

By the way, I have a strong fetish for Louboutin steppers
I hear Russian blonde's the
But anyway, I pay homage to my fellas
And that's what's on my mind and the rhyme, who's up?

D, the man of mystery
History in the makin', and now we're
Titles, awards, and
Scarin' the competition as I my blades

We come together like peanut butter and
pen and paper, like Picasso and canvases
Rockin' and shitty bars
Go back in time, send a fax my car

One, one, two, two, three,
Too many rappers, and still not enough emcees
It three, three, two, two, one, one
MCA, Ad-Rock, D, that's how we get it done like

Ladies and attention, Nas in the house
Beastie Boys, we can turn it out
Perpetrators, we can 'em out
So if you got on your mind, let it out