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 don't care what y'all say, I don't care what do
But better rep Harlem until the god-damned music is through
Mister C, Go

All on the honorable, who?
Dipset, back to the grill again at the barbecue
Beefs on, all my kids ride like a
Heats drawn, all you kids lie, like 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, jump up, to get beat down

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

I'm pumpin' on the strip, in the of the drug 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 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 made the news
The block kinda hot but the coke came on

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

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

I'm into stacks, major stats, hate on that
Cam, holla 'cuz I'm gonna his label plaques
That ain't made of plat, whoa, jewelery 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 when I some O's, Forty
Smokin' lye, optimoz, poppin' mo's, we both [Unverified]

is you coppin' clothes, I'll show you how to drop a rolls
Whether a phantom or a flower, I'm a like Jaffi 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 in my dresser, lyrical professor
Keep you under pressure, ain't a better
Mind a computer, sick shooters
You'll get finned, go to war with six

I bone bitches with coupes and big
Give head, and piff buddha, pump and sip luha
Ha you hard, you runnin' with 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 right, I had Juelz Santana, Jim Jones
Hell Rell, JR Writer, 40 Cal, Un kasa, forever, nigga
Mister C signin' off, Da God