Luyện nghe bài hát Dipset Symphony

I don't give a fuck who's or who's last
The Dipset is gonna rock shit out at a drop of a brick, nigga
I don't care what y'all say, I don't care what do
But better rep Harlem until the god-damned music is through
Mister C, Go

All eyes on the honorable,
Dipset, to the grill again live at the barbecue
Beefs on, all my ride like a carnival
Heats drawn, all you kids lie, like do

Get up and get ready, what up? The kids
Now that I'm back, the is fucked, the bitch let me
You front, you stunt, you get clown
Yeah, punks jump up, to get beat

Now eight ago, I played the bench with dimes
Everybody in my park was bent off dimes
packs on the block, tryin' to get us some sneakers
Sippin' yak, Henney, rock, puffin' nickels of

I'm pumpin' on the strip, in the of the drug trade
I'm watching for the blitz in the midst of the drug
For gotta eat, it's like my stomach is touching back
New York's man, for you suckers I'm fuckin' back

Now, can I it? Yes, I can
They wanna if I'm G'd up, yes, I am
Look, I over-paid my dues, I almost the news
The block kinda hot but the coke on move

If I was a brick, you wouldn't know to do with me
You'd cook me up, get a stem, and start using me
Nobody built me, I myself and
You know how to shoot guns, you'd graze yourself

I was a fiend, I became a teen
It was dreams, for the latest beams
Made in cream hey, they kept the kept the powder in the tray
Way it was maybelene

I'm major stacks, major stats, hate on that
Cam, holla 'cuz I'm bring his label plaques
That made of plat, whoa, your jewelery ain't gold
You cop ya jewelery from Hov, all fade to black

I was nine years old, I realized who was a roll [Unverified]
At the end I cop a Benz when I some O's, Forty
Smokin' lye, optimoz, poppin' mo's, we both [Unverified]

Difference is you clothes, I'll show you how to drop a rolls
a phantom or a flower, I'm a killa like Jaffi Joe
I'm where they made the cocky flow
While hoes puck up on my stick, like you trying to hit a goal

I a nine in my dresser, lyrical professor
Keep you under pressure, a nigga better
Mind a computer, sick shooters
You'll get finned, go to war with six

I bone bitches with and big hooters
Give head, and buddha, pump bricks and sip luha
Ha you hard, you runnin' with troopers
My niggas is straight shooters, cock back, and shoot ya

Not in my book, that nigga
I'll ask y'all niggas to go till the motherfuckin' beat
When I had the dipset right, I had Santana, Jim Jones
Hell Rell, JR Writer, 40 Cal, Un kasa, Dipset forever,
Mister C off, Duke Da God