Luyện nghe bài hát Symphony 2000

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

Yo, I grab the mic and grip it like it's my last time to shine
I want the chrome and the so I put it down for mine
Ill cat, slick talk, New York
To it down to straight English, what the fuck you want?
Remember me? You punk faggot emcee
Get your shit broke in half for fuckin' around P
strike two, my style Brooklyn like the Zoo
Hey you, look nigga, one more you through
Word is bi-dond, rock Esco, Fubu, and Fi-darm
time I get my spit on, no doubt, I spark the gridiron
I step up and the track and spit a jewel
We keeps cool, no need for static, I strap
up

Yo, I that's me
Yo, get on the mic and rock the

Yo P, time to rock, the I got, it reigns hot
Makin' necks snap back, a slingshot
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 nigga, makin' you smile with Scarface
It ain't my fault, that my style enough to shock ya
Hit you the fifth, block-a block-a
If I get caught you can bet I'll blow
Be swingin', M.O.P. style
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 would get a
Yo, did you ever think you get robbed
At gunpoint, stripped and out the car?
It's Doc, you know my name Hoe
My dirty underground, or Ukraine po'
When it you, pain pumps Kool-Aid, through the vein and shit
the trap then I dash like Damon did
Doc, walk, red lines to shell shock

with fuckin' broads in nail shops
Hydro? Got more bags than
Two Benz on my eight by ten picture
Papichu', crews in ICU
Battlin', hockey rules
For Keith Murray, Doc gon' these tools
Rollin' like dice in Yahtzee fool
I "Just do it" Nike, outta 'Bama
With ten kids with hammers, to a camper
Yo, up

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

Youth on the move, payin' dues, nuttin' to lose
Huh, kids, broken and bruised, eyein' yo' jewels
Huh, bad news, barin' souls through rhymin' blues
Hardcore to make them act fool
on the steel, flip you heads over heel
Smell the daffodils from the lyric
Feelin' like the mack inside a Seville
Too ill, on cuts, the of Seville, figaro
The sky is fallin',
I my high comin' down lookout below
Aiyyo, dead that roach clip and another

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

up
I believe me

Get on the mic and rock the

Mrs. Stop Drop and Roll, rocks top the
Hot, even though dames is
Pop close range at foes, and blaze hoes
Leave 'em with they brains exposed, and on clothes
Y'all better change your flows, hear how Luck
Stay drunk-pissed in the S-Type, whippin'
When the guns spittin', duck or get
It's written, we in the game but different
Point game like Jordan, play the role of Pippen
Style switchin', tight ass after stickin'
Man listen, your cryin' and your bitchin'
Like E and P's CD, you're out of business