Luyện nghe bài hát Dipset Symphony

I don't give a fuck who's or who's last
The Dipset is gonna rock this shit out at a drop of a brick,
I don't care what y'all say, I don't 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, to the grill again live at the barbecue
on, all my kids ride 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 is fucked, the bitch let me
You front, you stunt, you get heat
Yeah, punks up, to get beat down

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

I'm pumpin' on the strip, in the midst of the drug
I'm watching for the blitz in the midst of the raid
For niggas gotta eat, like my stomach is touching back
New ryder 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 my dues, I almost made the news
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 know how to shoot guns, graze yourself

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

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

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

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

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

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

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