Luyện nghe bài hát Hip Hop Is Dead (clean)

If hip hop should die I wake
I'll put an extended inside of my AK
to every station, murder the DJ
Roll to station, murder the DJ

If hip hop should die I wake
put an extended clip inside of my AK
Roll to every station, the DJ
to every station, murder the DJ

Hip hop just this mornin'
And dead, she's dead

Yeah, smoke, laugh, party, and die in the same corner
Get cash, live fast, body man's mama
Rich-ass is ridin' with three llamas
Revenge in their eyes, Hennessey and the
Word to the wise villain state of minds
Grindin', hittin' Brazilian dimes from
Grindin', hittin' Brazilian dimes from
(Grindin', hittin' Brazilian from behind)
Whenever, if ever, I roll up, it's up
Any ghetto will tell ya Nas grow us up
My once graced promotional Sony trucks
million in billin', I helped build 'em up
Gave my my right, I could have gave left
So like my girl Foxy, a nigga Def
So, nigga, who's top ten?
Is it MC
Is it MC

If hip hop should die I wake
I'll put an clip inside of my AK
Roll to every station, the DJ
to every station, murder the DJ

If hip hop die before I wake
put an extended clip inside of my AK
Roll to station, murder the DJ
Roll to every station, the DJ

Hip hop just died mornin'
And she's dead, she's

The the cap, the bigger the peelin'
Come through, something ill, the ceilin'
influenced my raps? Stick-ups and killings
Kidnappings, project buildings, drug
Criticize that, why is
'Cuz Nas rap is compared to legitimized
we love to talk on ass we gettin'
Most intellectuals will only listen
So you blame jazz musicians
Or David Stern his NBA fashion issues
Oh, I like me in my white tee
You can't ice me, we for life, B
On my second marriage, hip hop's my wifey
And for that we not it lightly
If hip hop die, we die together
Bodies in the morgue lie
All now

If hip hop should die before I
put an extended clip inside of my AK
Roll to every station, the DJ
Roll to every station, the DJ

If hip hop die before I wake
put an extended clip inside of my AK
Roll to station, murder the DJ
to every station, murder the DJ

Everybody the same, commercialize the game
Reminiscin' when it wasn't all
If it got it started
So we all here for the dearly departed
Hip since a toddler
One homeboy became a man a mobster
If the guys let me get my last of Vodka
R.I.P., donate your lungs to a Rasta
Went turntables to mp3s
"Beat Street" to commercials on Mickey D's
From gold cables to
From plain facials to Botox and face
I'm lookin' over my
It's about eighty niggaz from my hood that up
And came to show love
Sold out concert, and the doors are shut