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, me down

Yo, I grab the mic and grip it hard like it's my last time to
I the chrome and the cream so I put it down for mine
Ill cat, talk, slang New York
To it down to straight English, what the fuck you want?
Remember me? You punk faggot emcee
Get shit broke in half for fuckin' around with P
Aiyyo 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
Every 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 believe me
Yo, get on the mic and rock the

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

Yo yo, it's D.O.C.
Yo, you're on the mic to rock the

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

Hairlock fuckin' broads in nail shops
Hydro? Got more than bellhops
Two Benz on my eight by ten picture
Papichu', slayin' in ICU
Battlin', usin' hockey
For Murray, Doc gon' cock these tools
Rollin' like dice in Yahtzee fool
I "Just do it" like Nike, outta
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' them dues, to lose
Huh, street kids, broken and bruised, yo' jewels
Huh, bad news, barin' they souls through blues
Hardcore to make brothers act fool
Hands on the steel, flip you heads over
Smell the daffodils from the overkill
Feelin' like the mack inside a Cadillac
Too ill, on cuts, the of Seville, figaro
The sky is fallin',
I feel my high comin' down below
Aiyyo, dead that roach and spark another

Chickenhawks, playin' like Parker Brothers
I for the low-class, from Locash
The broke-assed, even rock for trailer trash
Yeah yeah, the God on your block like
Yeah yeah, she gave away my I'ma kill her
John phenomenon, in Japan they call 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 Meth
That's it, all, solo, single no more no less

up
I believe me

Get on the mic and rock the

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