Luyện nghe bài hát Revolution

[Society's
We was in these streets on pork and poison meat
Now i recognize the beast and bare the of the gold teeth
Puff on the leaf and bust on the police
While yall playas are fakin we cook the whole beef.
I put it down plain, i stimulate the left and right
by cell and frame by frame.
Names, dates, are all inmaterial. i big dick sick ryhme like cereal. i
Burn like venerial, and spit that imperial wizardry that climbs through
The curcitry.
Choake your for their cream but that's as far as we go
Drop shit like seaguls and smash your ego.
I get visions like and coleco,
Give me live people
One show no seaquel.
Aint no equal in the
I been through more evil men do.
Nasty off the and with the pen too!

[Chuck's
Now im
Easy to rhyme on tracks this
The things change
The more remain the same
These games them
on the brink of insane
Must be a rink
Lost in their
In pursuit of jane
I think man they think a be pretty in pink
Now in these new
Some of cats dont know how to act
All them acts aint got nuttin to do wit rap
One cuffuffed behind them backs in black
riot ,yall cant hear one hand clap
Revolution is more what you hear and what you see
The reintroduction
Of to society
Together we got 100 of sobriety
These
Who be flippin like new phones be me
out
They happy to be in the house
So im a emout
I aint no mouse

[Griff's
I rap
Write a 16 and of that
Then eat mix greens after that
My raps niggerish black like
While rappers get rich off some jibberish
The hoods for deliverance"g"
I'm a hood figure to deliverance this
L y should get the "sy"
I'm me and pe should have passed it on
the menace
He get's more love than
On the road to
Cause revolutions
whips. finance clips spend our chips
In the ghetto raising rebelz with fine azz tits.
No champagne no campaign no ice on my
While bred'z dipp'n on fedz sipp'n on
Out of my mind wine on my lips
Still aint signed the master
The mine. hey!!!!

Back in dome where the rebelz rome
The greatest weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the

Public the 7th octave we out