Luyện nghe bài hát Dipset Symphony

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

All on the honorable, who?
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 ready
Now that I'm back, the is fucked, the bitch let me
You front, you stunt, you get heat
Yeah, punks jump up, to get beat

Now eight years ago, I played the with dimes
in my park was getting bent off dimes
Pitchin' packs on the block, tryin' to get us sneakers
Sippin' yak, Henney, rock, puffin' of reefer

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

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

If I was a brick, you wouldn't know what to do me
You'd probably me up, get a stem, and start using me
built me, I made myself and
You don't know how to shoot guns, you'd graze

I was a fiend, I became a teen
It was dreams, toss for the beams
Made in 'cuz hey, they kept the kept the powder in the tray
Way before it was

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

When I was nine years old, I realized who was a roll
At the end I cop a Benz when I chop 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
Whether a phantom or a flower, I'm a killa Jaffi Joe
I'm from where made the cocky flow
While hoes puck up on my stick, you trying to hit a hockey goal

I keep a nine in my dresser, professor
Keep you under pressure, ain't a better
Mind a computer, sick shooters
get finned, go to war with six shooters

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

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