Luyện nghe bài hát Memory Lane

I rap for listeners, blunt heads, fly ladies and
Henessey and old school niggas, then I be dissin' a
Unofficial smoke woolie thai
I out of Kooley High, gassed up by a coke head cutie pie
Jungle survivor, fuck who's the
My man put the battery in my back, a difference Energizer
begins indented, with formality
My duration's infinite, money or physiology
Poetry, that's a of me, retardedly bop
I the ancient manifested hip-hop, straight off the block
I reminisce on jams, my man was shot for his sheep coat
lesson make me see him drop in my weed smoke
It's real, grew up in trife life, did times or lines
The hype vice, murderous night times, and knife invite crimes
Chill on the block Cognac gold strap
With my peeps that's into money, market into rap
No sign of the beast in the Chrysler, I guess that means peace
For niggaz no sheisty to just snipe ya
Start off the dice-rollin' mats for to Ceelo
With side bets, I roll a deuce, below (Peace God!)
Peace God, now the is explained
I'm takin' niggas on a straight through memory lane
It's like that y'all, it's like that

"Now let me a trip down memory lane"
"Comin' Queensbridge"

"Now let me take a trip memory lane"
"Comin' Queensbridge"

"Now let me a trip down memory lane"
"Comin' Queensbridge"

"Now let me a trip down memory lane"
"Comin' Queensbridge"

One for the
Two for pussy and cars
for Alize niggas deceased or behind bars
I rap divine Gods check the prognosis, is it real, or
My window faces shootouts, overdoses
amongst no roses, only the drama, for real
A is my fate, my medicine is the ganja
my basis, my razor embraces, many faces
Your blowin', black stitches or fat shoelaces
Peoples are petrol, automatic fo'-fo' I let blow
And back down po-po when I'm so
My pen taps the paper then my brain's
I see dark streets, hustlin' who keep the same rank
Pumpin' for somethin', some up-rise, plus fail
Judges hangin' niggas, bails, for direct sales
My intellect prevails from a hangin' with nails
I reinforce the frail, lyrics that's real
Word to Christ, a disciple of streets, on beats
I decipher through a mic and say peace.
I hung around the older crews while they sling to dingbats
spoke of Fat Cat, that nigga's name made bell rings, black
Some fiends scream, about Team, a Jamaica Queens thing
Uptown was Alpo, son, he was kingpin, yo
Fuck 'rap is real', the herbs stand still
Never talkin' to cause the words of man kill
True in the game, as long as blood is blue in my
I pour my brew to my deceased crew on memory lane

"Now let me take a trip memory lane"
"Comin' Queensbridge"
"Now let me a trip down memory lane"
"Comin' Queensbridge"
"Now let me a trip down memory lane"
"Comin' Queensbridge"
"Now let me a trip down memory lane"
"Comin' Queensbridge"

The dangerous MC is, me number won, and you know where me from