Luyện nghe bài hát Slap Them Up

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

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

When we come in all de dance D.J.'s shut up, woy
Gal, will ya come 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 they try to step to
They can't a MC with loose lips
Talk a lotta shit but no motherfuckin' ships

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

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

If shiverin' get off the pot
Let the rapper rock the spot
You there and jock, goin'
This is absolutely ludicrous, what can you do to

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

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

Crazy ill mad styles is what I 'em
Not a run of the mill 'em, I drill 'em, I got ridiculous
None of my styles you can get 'em
Still um, will um, 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 damn step to ya
We don't no games, I'll come straight to your rest
up your shirt and blast you in your chest, well, that was fresh

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

Your outreach is a breach of I teach
For styles you're a leech
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 looked
But you're a bitch, when you get it together
Call me, my card
Check the list, you lack breath control, mental
Lyrical talent, and flavor

I got no time for amateur rhyme, you be hurt
Thinkin' you're hard because you wear a gangsta
I'll smash your ass in the deep dirt
Black, you'll up dizzy sayin', "How da fuck he do dat?"

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

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

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

Do it, do, do, do it
Yo South Bronx, South Bronx
South Bronx, South South yo,
Brooklyn's in the house, lemme ya 'bout Staten Island
about Queens? Do it, do, do, do it, do it, do, do, do it