Luyện nghe bài hát Channel 10

(I'm this here) Yeah son feel it man word up son. You gotta just do
it yo. (C.N.N.) Yo word up it's a channel son word up on watch
the channel son different now man. (It's all good) Word up baby all
in every hood. (Queensbridge) Word up you hood nawsayin'? (Iraq) Left
rack and all adat yo my hood word up gotta rep son word up for
son. (check) Word up son let them know though son I feel you man let
'em son.

It nothin' but a hot slug to fill a villian
Crook I'm about to make a
So weed to escalate the
I regulate the dealin' niggas hate the feelin'
I stack my safe appealin' on my trace I'm peelin'
And what a Mecca had whole fuckin' kneelin'
Embrace the wheel and hit a buck without fuck
My drug passion got a nigga stashin' fast
One to hill billys run forever out to Chile'
Playin' the cuts nigga can't stop the willy
Cops harassin' blastin' while the day' passin'
Time for action cock the mac a satisfaction
Shoot laughin' slug caught up in the chest
blanked out chopped before he start rappin'

Microchips in the the game don't stop (don't stop)
in your bank funds with the labtop (labtop)
Wanna own a before the ball drop (ball drop)
Arab natiz hits on the cops (x2)

Noreaga
Word up son fucked up son word up Trag. I know you us both man but it
took the for us to click youknowhatI'msayin'? (yeah y'all met up
north) we had to meet up north (know what's real about all
this though that...) What about it? (we were young we strive we trying
to eat knowhatI'msayin'?) God degree (we got a lot of niggas out man)
7-3 and 12 jewels. Niggas ain't bustin' that heat man. just frontin'
yo they ain't bustin' they heat they who they is. (I'm tellin' my...)
who they is. (yo word is born)

C.N.N. network channel 10 on again
Street that' grown men
face gat in your face stay in your place
Yo lace catch more beef then Scarface (x2)
Court illegal minds too late
Back in '92 (you remember son?)
I buc and got live General Emanuel
Cell block crop
Go bagged up by cream cop
(FUCK THE WORLD) The way the cold dissed me
? poppie for posse call up Khadafi
all from Arab natzi the fowl motney
You were lat in jail gte what what what
Them new jacks comin' through
Scared to death of the stories that's true
You cold weak life on the street
locked up homoed with pink sheets (bitch nigga)
Discrete and your cell shook to
I wild out no till the day I'm out
Me what I did three kid you weak
Your and P.A.C.

Son fuck this shit so tell 'em about the streets son (echo)