Luyện nghe bài hát Apollo Kids

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

Yo, these up top murderous
Snowy in the as the cloud merges
F.B.I. try and want with this
Kid who punked out a shot up in the beacon
me in the corner not speaking
Crushed out heavenly, U.G. rock the sweet long fox minks
Chicken and broccoli, look stinky
With his man straight from Raleigh Durham, he recognized
I slapped him five, Masta cracked his tiny form
Everybody bread, huddle around
Guzzle that, I'm about to throw a in your bag
Since the been revealed, game got real
Radio been gassing niggas, my impostors scream ill
I'm the inventor, '86 rhyming at the
Debut '93 LP you to Enter
Punk fagot niggas my light
up in the bed with grandma,
beneath the where ya hid ya knife
is back, stretch Cadillac's, fruit cocktails
Hit the shells at Paul's Pastry
Walk with me like tried to judge these
degrees, said the cow, wrap the fees
Getting waxed all the drive-through
the stand, throw my hand all on the Bible
and tell lies too, I'm the
splash the Wolverine Razor Sharp ring,
student in role it

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

A pair of bright yellow Air Max
Hit the racks, 'em up Son, $20 off no tax
Street merchant tucked in the cloud, splurging
a eagle head, 6-inch height was the bird
Monday night Dallas verse Jets, dudes slid in with one
Two culture-ciphers, one bag of wet
Heavy fucked my kicks up
Wasn't looking, splashed in the
Bitch laughing, first thought was the bitch up
off gracefully, New York's most wanted tee-ball hawk
Seen the yellow brick road, lust of
Same Ghostface, in the mind
Last scene, Manhattan
We the six-eight digit in the briefcase
Rawness, title is
Quick to reload around faces, surround look

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

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