Luyện nghe bài hát Straight From Queens

Rippin' the
And blowin the apart.
These MC's got no heart,
They need to before they start.
and breakin' 'em down.
at least.
'em up, up at least.
'em in a pilek.
Now a stomp and a smile, G.


Jason.
When I be
rappers,
style,
down.
Their style's bassin',
All in my face.
You got the mic,
But I getcha off it.
You got my rhyme,
Now it.
Brother, the tip and forfeit.
nada,
not a,
I'm hotter.
You're a trotter.

Switch the 'e' an 'a,'
And karata.
I come on
I'm it up
like a madman.
I fly head,
off your legs,
And your head stand.
Tax and these chumps
All of I rub out.
You the time.
on your mind?
You I never go out.
I be bouts.
Ya
block; is full of bums, see.
You was too clever
the fork in you,
You're G.

The rip
the ultimate
Of all the rappers.
Toe to toe.
I go
I
The will smack ya.
Pumpin' ya a lead,
like a nine.
Kickin' it off in the time.
Takin' a
And mine.
way behind.
Ya a title,
And all the
your title for ya.
Hopin',
And prayin',
And wishin',
That I rap,
But I rip all a
In half.
Look at me
Ya style.
Ya it.
Mmm, I see goodies.
the mic and hoodie.
Now dick it.
Any,
The every,
The his,
The hers,
Of those,
Of theirs,
Of them,
I see your
your neck,
Just loose.
I your gem.
I'm takin' it off your
With line that I select,
And it up and cuttin'.
While I'm
disrespect.
off.
Yeah,
Squeezin' a vice grip,
ya off the stage,
the crowd,
So a nice trip.

I'm control.
I
The as good as gold.
Fly, so heads.
I my twenty-fifth
pole.
it out,
And gettin'
Is a understatement.
How to rap a flat,
Puttin' his
the pavement.
'em up,
Just a flame thrower.
'em
With the flower.
'em out in pairs,
the man, Noah.
'em up
Just a trophy,
For the to see.
You ain't superb,
You see.
goin' out,
Like a to me.
your little
Boo-hoo, baby.
drop.
style.
Breakin' it
Until dust,
And vacuum up the pile.
Showin',
And provin',
And groovin',
And makin a
On the mic.
Slappin' a
In his mouth,
Just
A dirty tyke.
of the murderous
Maniac,
Mad style,
man.
the mic
Since I was
A child.
Props and
More than Terminator 2.
pen and pad
I to you,
And on the too.
with energy,
lyrically,
my empire.
You don't to test me.

of funkadelic.
Every album's a relic.
the line,
on mine,
But ya live to tell it.
it off quick,
the script.
in the bushes,
Then around the jam.
I'm handin' out
And mushes.
makin' a face.
You to test my slick maneuver?
best to rock a break beat,
Or you can groove to.
Even if rapper
In the was makin' jams,
As as I set this off
Their mics are
Out hands.
the junky's world
the release
Of single.
in the days
I ya,
I a beat
To ya jingle.

the sword,
And off the mic cord.
Rappers are
All the street
In state I toured.
I'm the truth,
With god
right before ya eyes.
And I'll be
In and sneakers,
You can the suit and ties.
No out.
Bet ya never dies.
Gimme microphone,
rip it up
sunrise.