Luyện nghe bài hát December 24

It is surely time that the speech of the Black culture of America be recognized as a genuine dialect of English. It is in sense of the word...
Yeah, uh, uh, uh

Allen with the picked 'fro, answer in the
Alley-oopin' all the shit
Powered-up, out for the
panic when it get cold, we go at it, ho
How you want them ribs smoked, Uh
Ten toes, know you on your shit
Big stone, and your fist balled
on the strip
Don't panic when the pig
Scramble, get the big tall fetti, and get home
Tally up—tally up the wins
Don't think he he pro-violence
But it's gon' be problem if he did, though
I out the way, ayy
Palace where the Crips
Silent the pigs came browsin' in his shit
Bang like two mallets, too callous for your bitch
'Member when they had my grandmammy on a drink
How much of that gin straight? have filled a fish tank
My doggy hit my cell, say he got me off the
Ask him, "That's how it is?" say
"You die and you live, huh?"
Your and then your limbs break
catch me when I slip, bro
What's poppin'? a hip bone
I told you, these niggas like the Citgo
We passin', niggas know we keep the gas the spliff roll
The get the ashes in the end, bro
We took your pass and your credentials, uh
Bad apple, clashin' with my kinfolk
Bad did damage to my mental
Show you right, it took passages to get grown
been called me savage from the get go
Uh