Luyện nghe bài hát Business as Usual

(let's it to the stage, sucka)

sermon:
It's the e, and I'm smokin'. wild tone loc, I'm roastin, bakin' mcs,
The e I'm not jokin' so back up, punk, up.
Watch your weak posse, before they get up.
One by one, two by two, by three, yo p...
what's up, e.d.? ]
Pass the uzi, to blow up, any wack mc that up,
goes one, blast 'im now.
[e, up.]
*don't make me because it might be too late, the punk might escape,
And buck whyle, and in fact, bite my style, and catch a bullshit charge,
trial.
It's my thing to swing, your mistake to bring a duck mc that can't hang.
Don't forget, I'm crazy swift. my is erick sermon
[yeah, and I'm smith]
I could act foolish, start blastin'. ha ha ha ha, now who's
I'm-a let ya slide, but ya owe me, time you see me...
[...holler ya know me!]
I'm mad...

(here's a little story, gots to tell) {scratching} (I'm mad!) 4x

My story I tell straight from the heart.
suckers tried to crash my shit straight from start.
A young kid destined for success, no old gold, no cocaine, or buddha cess.
Straight up work. no sleep and no shorts.
Brainstormin' with the that pop duke taught.
To swingin', yeah, and not to quit.
Now I ride the benz, you the dick, with your punk friends,
Straight up pussy from punk city, my attitude's fucked up and shitty.
From the backstabbers, my so-called friends,
Who swim in my pool. when time, flex the benz,
Around town, windows down at the south town, cool j tape or "spellbound"
fly girlies dippin, brothers grippin' and sippin'
Old gold, red bull, hands on my and
I'm just lampin' with my ek shades, truck-jewels, obviously the paid.
But of course not, brother get his props
Like for instance, I cruise up the block
In my 560 lampin' on my phone, chrome kit beamin' all off your dome.
But like a sucka, yeah, you the other way
how I knew you're on my dick kid, but it's okay.
It's normal, relax, your head's busted.
Caught in the rap skit, ya be trusted.
'cause my sounds from here to okinowi...{kiss} peace and I'm ouuuutie!

Stay tuned to this last episode, when I the house and the mic explodes.
This is not the buckwild style that I be usin', in black,
It {mass confusion}
a fallout, when sucker mcs and crowds call out my name,
Oh a shame I got {fame!}

I'm not a new jack, my are not wack, and in fact,
I'm like clint eastwood, 'stead of bullets, rhymes I
In my gun, so son, ya better run,
'cause it comes to hostage and prisoners, we take none.
We move wax kilos ...{scratch}
And my jam hits the streets, the sounds explode.
Watch the right hook, the death blow jack,
I where the e and the p's at...
they do it again? ] you bet your ass, black.
[see you in '91] until get the bozack... [i'm mad...]