Luyện nghe bài hát De Automatic

Some de automatic
it out

Some fear de automatic, yes de
Disrespect, MC's, me nah go have it
De automatic, get de
a rapper gwan die

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

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

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

How do you think I kick a style no and you figure
It's simple, I'm a rap God, and youse a
Don't mean I'm bigger, it simply means I'm
For starters, I at you poetically harder

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 of panties underneath your bubblegoose
KRS-One will up parties dramatically
My reflex'll slap a wack rapper

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

Don't you realize, that I'm all survival
I got only friends 'cause I killed all my
Show up at the rhyme recitals, they titles
From to ninety-six 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, from head to toe yo ain't no killin' this
I over 100 rap hooks
And sociological books, while you worried your looks

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

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

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

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

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