Luyện nghe bài hát Dipset Symphony

I don't give a fuck who's or who's last
The Dipset is rock 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 on the honorable, who?
Dipset, back to the grill again live at the
Beefs on, all my kids 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 heat
Yeah, punks up, to get beat down

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

I'm on the strip, in the midst of the drug trade
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
wanna know if I'm G'd up, yes, I am
Look, I over-paid my dues, I almost made the
The block hot but the coke came on move

If I was a brick, you know 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 became a
It was dreams, toss for the beams
Made in cream hey, they kept the kept the powder in the tray
Way it was maybelene

I'm major 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 from Hov, they all fade to

When I was years old, I realized who was a roll [Unverified]
At the end I cop a when 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 a rolls
Whether a phantom or a flower, I'm a like Jaffi Joe
I'm from where they made the cocky
While hoes puck up on my stick, like you trying to hit a hockey

I a nine in my dresser, lyrical professor
Keep you under pressure, ain't a nigga
Mind a computer, sick shooters
You'll get finned, go to war with six

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

Not in my book, that nigga
I'll ask y'all niggas to go till the motherfuckin' stops
When I had the right, I had Juelz Santana, Jim Jones
Hell Rell, JR Writer, 40 Cal, Un kasa, forever, nigga
Mister C off, Duke Da God