Luyện nghe bài hát Symphony 2000

Yeah, Sermon, EPMD, yeah, check it
Redman, Method Man, Luck, Def Jam
Erick and Parrish Ducats
Hold me down, hold me

Yo, I grab the mic and it hard like it's my last time to shine
I want the and the cream so I put it down for mine
Ill cat, talk, slang New York
To break it down to English, what the fuck you want?
me? You punk faggot crab emcee
Get your broke in half for fuckin' around with P
Aiyyo two, my style Brooklyn like the Zoo
Hey you, look nigga, one strike you through
is bi-dond, rock Esco, Fubu, and Phat Fi-darm
Every time I get my spit on, no doubt, I the gridiron
I step up and bless the track and a jewel
We cool, no need for static, I strap tools
up

Yo, I believe me
Yo, get on the mic and the symphony

Yo P, to rock, the sound I got, it reigns hot
Makin' necks snap back, like a
E hustle, and my way in
Then tussle for days in, on my own with guns
Not for the fun of it, just for who want me to run it
leave them like who done it?
Sucka duck, I do what I feel now
When I spit the illest shit, be like, "Wow!"
Yo! I get looks I'm in the place
That's that nigga, you smile with Scarface
It ain't my fault, that my Silkk enough to shock ya
Hit you the fifth, block-a block-a
If I get caught you can bet I'll blow
Be downtown swingin', M.O.P.
up

Yo yo, Funk D.O.C.
Yo, you're on the mic to the symphony

Yo yo, did you ever think you would catch a
Yo, did you ever think you get a slap?
Yo, did you ever think you get robbed
At gunpoint, stripped and thrown out the
It's Funk Doc, you my name Hoe
My dirty underground, or Ukraine po'
When it hits you, pain pumps Kool-Aid, through the and shit
Snatch the trap then I like Damon did
Doc, walk, thin red to shell shock

Hairlock with fuckin' broads in nail
Got more bags than bellhops
Two thousand Benz on my by ten picture
Papichu', crews in ICU
Battlin', usin' hockey
For Keith Murray, Doc gon' these tools
Rollin' down like dice in Yahtzee
I "Just do it" like Nike, 'Bama
With ten with hammers, hooked to a camper
Yo, up

the G O D
Yo yo, get on the mic for the

Youth on the move, payin' them dues, to lose
Huh, street kids, broken and bruised, eyein' yo'
Huh, bad news, they souls through rhymin' blues
to make them brothers act fool
Hands on the steel, flip you heads heel
the daffodils from the lyric overkill
Feelin' like the inside a Cadillac Seville
Too ill, on cuts, the Barber of Seville,
The sky is fallin',
I feel my high comin' down below
Aiyyo, dead roach clip and spark another

Chickenhawks, playin' like Parker Brothers
I rock for the low-class, from
The broke-assed, even for trailer park trash
Yeah yeah, the God on your like Godzilla
Yeah yeah, she gave away my pussy I'ma her
John phenomenon, in Japan they call me Ichiban
Wu-Tang Clan, won
In the whole nine, I hold
playin' with it kid, you might go blind, jerkoff
Fuck A.K.A., for now it's just Meth
That's it, that's all, solo, no more no less

up
I that's me

Get on the mic and rock the

Mrs. Stop Drop and Roll, top the told
Hot, even though is froze
Pop range at foes, and blaze them hoes
Leave 'em they brains exposed, and stains on clothes
Y'all better change your flows, hear how spittin'?
Stay in the S-Type, stay whippin'
When the spittin', duck or get hittin'
written, we in the game but ball different
Point game like Jordan, play the role of Pippen
switchin', like tight ass after stickin'
Man listen, your cryin' and your bitchin'
E and P's last CD, you're out of business