Luyện nghe bài hát Symphony 2000

Yeah, Erick Sermon, EPMD, yeah, it
Redman, Man, Lady Luck, Def Jam
and Parrish Millenium Ducats
Hold me down, me down

Yo, I grab the mic and grip it hard like it's my last to shine
I want the chrome and the so I put it down for mine
Ill cat, talk, slang New York
To it down to straight English, what the fuck you want?
Remember me? You faggot crab emcee
Get your shit broke in for fuckin' around with P
Aiyyo two, my style Brooklyn like the Zoo
Hey you, look nigga, one more you through
is bi-dond, rock Esco, Fubu, and Phat Fi-darm
Every time I get my spit on, no doubt, I spark the
I step up and bless the track and a jewel
We keeps cool, no need for static, I tools
up

Yo, I that's me
Yo, get on the mic and the symphony

Yo P, time to rock, the I got, it reigns hot
necks snap back, like a slingshot
E hustle, and my way in
Then tussle for days in, on my own with guns
Not for the fun of it, for those who want me to run it
Then leave them like who it?
Sucka duck, I do I feel right now
When I spit the illest shit, be like, "Wow!"
Yo! I get looks I'm in the place
That's nigga, makin' you smile with Scarface
It ain't my fault, that my Silkk enough to shock ya
Hit you the fifth, block-a block-a
If I get caught you can bet blow trial
Be swingin', M.O.P. style
up

Yo yo, Funk D.O.C.
Yo, you're on the mic to rock the

Yo yo, did you think you would catch a cap?
Yo, did you think you would get a slap?
Yo, did you ever think you would get
At gunpoint, and thrown out the car?
It's Funk Doc, you know my Hoe
My style dirty underground, or po'
When it hits you, pain pumps Kool-Aid, through the and shit
Snatch the trap I dash like Damon did
Doc, walk, thin red lines to shell

Hairlock with fuckin' broads in nail
Got more bags than bellhops
Two Benz on my eight by ten picture
Papichu', slayin' in ICU
Battlin', hockey rules
For Keith Murray, Doc cock these tools
Rollin' down like in Yahtzee fool
I "Just do it" like Nike, outta
With ten with hammers, hooked to a camper
Yo, up

the G O D
Yo yo, get on the mic for the

Youth on the move, them dues, nuttin' to lose
Huh, street kids, broken and bruised, eyein' yo'
Huh, bad news, they souls through rhymin' blues
Hardcore to them brothers act fool
Hands on the steel, flip you heads over
Smell the daffodils from the lyric
Feelin' like the mack a Cadillac Seville
Too ill, on cuts, the of Seville, figaro
The sky is fallin',
I my high comin' down lookout below
Aiyyo, dead that roach clip and another

Chickenhawks, theyselves like Parker Brothers
I for the low-class, from Locash
The broke-assed, even rock for trailer park
yeah, the God on your block like Godzilla
Yeah yeah, she gave away my pussy kill her
John John phenomenon, in Japan they call me
Clan, numba won
In the whole nine, I hold
Keep playin' with it kid, you go blind, jerkoff
Fuck them A.K.A., for now it's just
That's it, all, solo, single no more no less

up
I believe me

Get on the mic and the symphony

Mrs. Stop Drop and Roll, rocks top the
Hot, even though dames is
Pop close at foes, and blaze them hoes
Leave 'em with brains exposed, and stains on clothes
Y'all better change flows, hear how Luck spittin'?
Stay in the S-Type, stay whippin'
the guns spittin', duck or get hittin'
It's written, we in the but ball different
Point game Jordan, y'all play the role of Pippen
switchin', like tight ass after stickin'
Man listen, stop your cryin' and your
Like E and P's last CD, you're out of