Luyện nghe bài hát No Airplay

Yo the brooklyn bridge is gonna y'know?
Yo this jean and the refugee all-stars up in here
Yo what's this I about the police in brooklyn?
this jam up, yo, yo
This the type of jam that be no airplay
I want the whole world to this joint right here, yo
This the type of jam that be no airplay
You asked for it buddy, here it

One two, out for the man in blue
Three four, I it raw and hardcore
Five six, you're us with nightsticks
Seven eight, I'm forced to pack a
Nine ten, you put me in a pen; if I
Do it all again, I'd probably your chin
*repeat 2x: first time "ah"; second "once I leave the pen"*

I'm from a land of black bats, alley rats and
up my car, set me up for the carjack
Under pressure, I leave the gat
Two straps, a total of caps
Say something positive? no
More positivity, more brutality
Thugs get angry, the violence
You want peace, wyclef chief of police
Riding through the hood, it's the same ol
It's either you play ball or you drug dealy
Standin on the when the spot get hot
to get set up, by a crooked cop
So I'm sittin back, on instrumentals
Anything I touch, it turns
Me and jerry wonder, we keep it
For the streets, at the time, we gotta eat
When we it's to enterprise
We to sell a hundred mil before we die
But jerry is broke, the situation
Nine-seven, like no more eviction
No war milk, no more government cheese
Police keep on shootin at our bentley

Yo the type of jam that be getting no airplay
The brooklyn about to collapse, apocalypse
the type of jam that be getting no airplay
The ghettoes are fed up, we got the in the air

One two, watch out for the man in
Three four, I it raw and hardcore
Five six, you're beating us nightsticks
eight, I'm forced to pack a thirty-eight
Nine ten, you put me in a pen; if I
Do it all again, I'd probably bust your

Yo bust
Forty caliber, through your character
world, underwater, sub mariner
Derringer, one in the challenger
Seven, four-eight, on the calender
My word verses, burst you rap nervous
It's worthless, you get smashed up, on the
Projectile, my forty-four style, on silver
The red ripper, up the resevoir nigga
Armageddeon, you dead on, a world crisis
The nicest, for bars, of preciseness

One two, out for the man in blue
Three four, I keep it raw and
six, you're sticking me with nightsticks
Seven eight, I'm forced to call
ten, you put me in a pen; if I could
Do it all again, I'd bust your whole chin

You got a gat nigga, use it, go 'head it
Scientists got raw of me dodgin bullets
I walk the streets heat, three biscuits
Outnumberin niggaz twin glocks with
When I spit shit I lace it, you get punched in face
Puncutations of five-knuckle
I assure you the standin before you
destroy you with temperatures hot enough to flamebroil you
My tongue moves much faster yours do
Every three thousand styles I my voiceboxes oil
Embarass you in of your crew to annoy you
If you know chicks that suck a good dick, then I'll employ you
To this hip-hop shit, canibus loyal
That's why every killuminati I somebody for you
I'm you, me versus you, I hurt you
My balance enables me to in a circle
Your head'll spin so fast catch whiplash
I lyrical witchcraft on your bitch ass
Make hard drive crash to c colon backslash (c:/)
Go back to the roots and your wack ass, nigga

One two, out for the man in blue
Three four, I it raw and hardcore
Five six, sticking us with nightsticks
Seven eight, I'm to pack a thirty-eight
Nine ten, you put me in a pen; if I
Do it all again, I'd probably bust whole chin
Where brooklyn at? brooklyn at? (right here, right here)
A-ight? new in the house...

The versus gestapo, what what
Yo, there'll be no sequel to this
There will be no sequel to this
The versus gestapo
There'll be no sequel to this revolution, what