Luyện nghe bài hát Dipset Symphony

I give 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 don't care what do
But y'all rep Harlem until the god-damned music is through
C, let's Go

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

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

Now eight years ago, I played the bench with
Everybody in my park was bent off dimes
Pitchin' packs on the block, tryin' to get us some
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 eat, it's like my stomach is touching back
New York's man, for you suckers I'm fuckin' back

Now, can I it? Yes, I can
They wanna 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
You'd probably cook me up, get a stem, and start me
Nobody built me, I made and
You know how to shoot guns, you'd graze yourself

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

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

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

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

I keep a in my dresser, lyrical professor
Keep you under pressure, a nigga better
Mind a computer, sick shooters
get finned, go to war with six shooters

I bone bitches coupes and big hooters
Give head, and piff buddha, bricks and sip luha
Ha you hard, you runnin' with troopers
My is straight shooters, cock back, and straight shoot ya

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