Luyện nghe bài hát De Automatic

Some fear de
it out

Some de automatic, yes de automatic
Disrespect, from MC's, me nah go it
De automatic, get de
Tonight a rapper die

Crazy MC's waste they time millions
While KRS-One, holds the of the children
I'm buildin' a followin' of a hundred and thousand
Chosen few heads up in project

A rapper, street rapper, rappin' to the center
I enter any cipher, tales of adventure
If rappers are ridin' like cars, I'm bendin' mad fenders
Put down your mic and

Youse a pretender, Blastmaster KRS rules the
Kickin' Edutainment while you wait for arraignment
Save it before your chest I cave it in
I got my way again, I'm classical a fuckin' Harley Davidson

How do you think I a lyrical style no and you figure
It's simple, I'm a rap God, and a nigga
Don't mean I'm bigger, it simply I'm smarter
For starters, I come at you poetically

De automatic, get de
Disrespect, from MC's, me nah go it
De automatic, get de
a rapper gwan die

Ha hah, fake ass rapper, how you you got juice?
When you rock a pair of panties underneath bubblegoose
KRS-One will fuck up dramatically
My reflex'll slap a rapper automatically

When you was home witcha mother, of the dark
I was out in Prospect Park
one meal every 48 hours
Writin' dope styles that you now devour

you realize, that I'm all about survival
I got friends 'cause I killed all my rivals
Show up at the rhyme recitals, took they
From eighty-six to completes my first cycle

De automatic, get de
Disrespect, MC's, me nah go have it
De automatic, get de
Tonight a rapper die

I spent 40 and 40 nights in the wilderness
I'm hard, head to toe yo there ain't no killin' this
I wrote 100 rap hooks
And sociological books, while you worried about your

Now you wanna enter the dragon in
But I've got the live show locked down
Platinum and gold don't in my arena
You to keep it real on the mic, when they see ya

I manifest, in the West the East and
The vision in rap is wack and I don't of these
I represent New to be specific
The South Bronx, but in Japan I'm still

I grab a jet and land on set, what the fuck?
Twenty bucks for a rap show is still, bucks
I start from eighty-six and bring you into
No gimmicks, tricks or lyrics

De automatic, get de
Disrespect, from MC's, me nah go it
De automatic, get de
Tonight a rapper die

yeah, it's the God Fat Joe
Representin' the motherfuckin' South
With my Kris, knockin' off frauds
Motherfuckers do what?
Big out to my nigga Kenny Parker
Ill Will, BDP for life nigga
Gotto, the Big French productions
Of course the TAT crew, my Brim
The T.S. crew, and the Godsville
South Bronx nigga, uhh
The Bronx, the South South Bronx
South Bronx, the South Bronx
Yeah, uhh