Luyện nghe bài hát Apollo Kids

Uh-huh, uh-huh, motherfucker,
Yeah, I see that, I see
All y'all fake motherfuckers up in the joint,
Stealing my light, huh? Watch me, duke, me

Yo, check up top murderous
Snowy in the bezzle as the cloud
F.B.I. try and want with this
Kid who punked out bust a shot up in the
Catch me in the not speaking
out heavenly, U.G. rock the sweet daddy long fox minks
Chicken and broccoli, look stinky
With his man straight from Durham, he recognized Kojak
I slapped him five, Masta Killa cracked his tiny
Everybody break bread, huddle
Guzzle that, I'm to throw a hand in your bag
the face been revealed, game got real
Radio gassing niggas, my impostors scream they ill
I'm the inventor, '86 at the center
Debut '93 LP told you to
Punk fagot niggas stealing my
up in the bed with grandma,
beneath the La-Z-Boy where ya hid ya
Ghost is back, stretch Cadillac's, cocktails
Hit the at Paul's Pastry Rack
Walk with me Darthy tried to judge these
plush degrees, the cow, wrap the fees
waxed all through the drive-through
Take the stand, my hand all on the Bible
and tell too, I'm the ultimate
splash the Wolverine Razor ring, dolomite
in role holding it

Hey yo, this like Ziti, facin me real TV
Crash at high-speeds, strawberry,
As we approach, yo herb, the bail
Staten Island ferryboat cats bail
Fresh cellies, 50 thief up in the
We banned for life, Apollo kids live to the real

A pair of bright phat Air Max
Hit the racks, 'em up Son, $20 off no tax
Street merchant in the cloud, stay splurging
Rock a head, 6-inch height was the bird
night Dallas verse Jets, dudes slid in with one hand
Two culture-ciphers, one bag of wet
Heavy rain fucked my up
Wasn't looking, in the puddle
Bitch laughing, first was beat the bitch up
off gracefully, New York's most wanted tee-ball hawk
Seen the yellow brick road, lust of
Ghostface, holy in the mind
Last scene, Chase
We drew the digit in the briefcase
Rawness, is Hell-bound
Quick to around faces, surround look astound

We split a fair one, nose money
Gin rummy with glare, the lame, bit his ear
Yo, you a tea-spoon, 300 goons, stash balloons
Locked in lab rooms, hit glock, stashed in Grant's Tomb
him like a patient, his stock's full, hustle invasion
Knowing now, we cocked a block off, the tri-color
Freezing in valor, galore
Gas station gleaming on the wall
Cop WiseGuy jams, James vans
Niggas flipped Timbs, rock boats under water, clams
pose at the stand-off, mad
hoping the gun fall, guess him like lottery balls, yo

Hey yo, rappin's like Ziti, facin me real TV
Crash at high-speeds, strawberry,
As we approach, yo herb, the Gods
These Staten Island ferryboat cats
Fresh cellies, 50 up in the city
We banned for life, kids live to spit the real