Luyện nghe bài hát Dipset Symphony

I don't give a who's first or who's last
The Dipset is gonna rock shit out at a drop of a brick, nigga
I care what y'all say, I don't care what y'all do
But y'all better rep Harlem until the god-damned music is
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 I'm back, the game is fucked, the bitch let me
You front, you stunt, you get clown
Yeah, jump up, to get beat down

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

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

Now, can I it? Yes, I can
wanna know if I'm G'd up, yes, I am
Look, I my dues, I almost made the news
The block kinda hot but the came on move

If I was a brick, you wouldn't what to do with me
You'd probably cook me up, get a stem, and using me
built me, I made myself and
You don't 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 the kept the powder in the tray
Way before it was

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

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

Difference is you coppin' clothes, I'll you how to drop a rolls
Whether a phantom or a flower, I'm a killa Jaffi Joe
I'm from 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, ain't a nigga
Mind like a computer, sick
You'll get finned, go to war six shooters

I bone with coupes and big hooters
Give head, and buddha, pump bricks and sip luha
Ha you hard, you runnin' with state
My niggas is straight shooters, cock back, and straight 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, forever, nigga
C signin' off, Duke Da God