Luyện nghe bài hát I'm Mad

Erick
the e, and I'm smokin'. wild like tone loc, I'm roastin, bakin' mcs,
The e I'm not jokin' so back up, punk, up.
Watch your posse, before they get smacked up.
One by one, two by two, by three, yo p...
[parrish: up, e.d.? ]
Pass the uzi, to up, any wack mc that show up,
There one, blast 'im now.
[e, up.]
*don't make me wait-wait* because it be too late, the punk might escape,
And buck whyle, and in fact, bite my style, and catch a bullshit charge,
trial.
It's my to swing, your first mistake to bring a duck mc that can't hang.
Don't forget, I'm crazy swift. my name is erick
[yeah, and I'm smith]
I could act foolish, start blastin'. ha ha ha ha, now laughin'?
I'm-a let ya slide, but ya owe me, time you see me...
[...holler like ya me!]
I'm mad...

(here's a little story, gots to tell) {scratching} (I'm mad!) 4x

My story I tell straight from the heart.
When suckers tried to crash my shit from start.
A young black kid for success, no old gold, no cocaine, or buddha cess.
up hard work. no sleep and no shorts.
Brainstormin' with the skills that pop taught.
To swingin', yeah, and not to quit.
Now I the benz, you ride the dick, with your punk friends,
Straight up pussy from city, my attitude's fucked up and real shitty.
the backstabbers, yeah my so-called friends,
Who swim in my pool. it's time, flex the benz,
Around town, windows down at the south town, j tape or k-solo "spellbound"
With fly girlies dippin, brothers grippin' and
Old gold, red bull, on my dick and
I'm just lampin' my ek shades, truck-jewels, obviously the man's paid.
But of not, brother can't get his props
Like for instance, when I up the block
In my 560 on my metro phone, chrome kit beamin' all off your dome.
But a sucka, yeah, you looked the other way
That's how I you're on my dick kid, but it's okay.
It's normal, relax, whole head's busted.
Caught in the rap skit, ya be trusted.
'cause my sounds pound from to okinowi...{kiss} peace and I'm ouuuutie!

Stay to this last episode, when I rock the house and the mic explodes.
This is not the style that I be usin', in fact black,
It causes confusion}
It's a fallout, when mcs and crowds call out my name,
Oh what a I got {fame!}

I'm not a new jack, my are not wack, and in fact,
I'm like clint eastwood, of bullets, rhymes I pack
In my flow gun, so son, ya run,
'cause when it comes to hostage and prisoners, we none.
We wax like kilos ...{scratch}
And when my jam the streets, the sounds explode.
Watch the hook, duck the death blow jack,
I wonder the e and the p's at...
they do it again? ] you bet your ass, black.
[see you in until things get the bozack... [i'm mad...]