Luyện nghe bài hát Dipset Symphony

I don't a fuck who's first or who's last
The Dipset is gonna this shit out at a drop of a brick, nigga
I don't care what y'all say, I care what y'all do
But y'all better rep Harlem the god-damned music is through
Mister C, Go

All eyes on the honorable,
Dipset, back to the grill live at the barbecue
on, all my kids ride like a carnival
Heats drawn, all you lie, like carpet do

Get up and get ready, what up? The ready
Now that I'm back, the is fucked, the bitch let me
You front, you stunt, you get clown
Yeah, punks jump up, to get beat

Now eight years ago, I played the bench with
Everybody in my park was bent off dimes
Pitchin' on the block, tryin' to get us some sneakers
Sippin' yak, Henney, rock, puffin' nickels of

I'm pumpin' on the strip, in the midst of the trade
I'm watching for the blitz in the midst of the drug
For niggas gotta eat, it's like my stomach is back
New ryder man, for you suckers I'm fuckin' back

Now, can I it? Yes, I can
They know if I'm G'd up, yes, I am
Look, I over-paid my dues, I almost made the
The block kinda hot but the coke came on

If I was a brick, you wouldn't what to do with me
probably cook me up, get a stem, and start using me
Nobody me, I made myself and
You don't how to shoot guns, you'd graze yourself

I was a fiend, I became a teen
It was dreams, for the latest beams
Made in 'cuz hey, they kept the kept the powder in the tray
Way before it was

I'm into major stacks, stats, hate on that
Cam, holla I'm gonna bring his label plaques
That ain't made of plat, whoa, jewelery ain't gold
You cop ya jewelery from Hov, they all to black

When I was years old, I realized who was a roll [Unverified]
At the end I cop a Benz I chop some O's, Forty
lye, optimoz, poppin' mo's, we both shoppin' [Unverified]

Difference is you coppin' clothes, I'll show you how to drop a
Whether a phantom or a flower, I'm a killa like Joe
I'm from where made the cocky flow
hoes puck up on my stick, like you trying to hit a hockey goal

I keep a nine in my dresser, lyrical
Keep you under pressure, ain't a better
Mind like a computer, shooters
get finned, go to war with six shooters

I bitches with coupes and big hooters
Give head, and buddha, pump bricks and sip luha
Ha you hard, you with state troopers
My niggas is straight shooters, cock back, and straight ya

Not in my book, never nigga
ask y'all niggas to go till the motherfuckin' beat stops
When I had the dipset right, I had Santana, Jim Jones
Rell, JR Writer, 40 Cal, Un kasa, Dipset forever, nigga
Mister C signin' off, Da God