Luyện nghe bài hát General Principles

Castle you too
You're black on C4
white could C4

I must put in time to get mine, hours to earn power
Like the ashy hand, he should only the rope flower
I can't be a broke nigga, better in
Sellin' on the corner of Sunset and Dower

A small fry nigga in a baked world
Sizzling in beef full of grease like jheri curls
Shout out to DJ's who it real
Shook a few in the thou', but some never the seal

Fuck them, I to college radios, mix shows
Historic university to freestyle sick
Might give a lecture your rap texture
M.C. B-Boy, DJ, director

The name was a bell that through the hall
is the tag in the bathroom stall, check it
This is so captivating
When we a rap nigga, the news is devastating

Whether to the prison or grave, you this rap shit
Is built the strength of those to hunger the crave
My Clan got rhymes for days to be skilled, it
Most of them can't the solar rays

Name a crew that can stop the force that I strike
Let alone try to hold the pen that I write
You can even chop off my fingers I with
I hold a mic with, thinking I might quit

They didn't know, that only makes me determined
Ich lebe fur hip hop, you can ask the
Some say I never got this for
So I another, they shocked and still listen

Plus I, ran into a known musician
He said, this shit got too many cooks in the kitchen
Now he's back to flipping love and cypher says
To his kids, much even hyper wiz

A bad amigo, will your ego
You see the flash in the dash, blast with Buick-Regal
The brother you was throwing your key to
the 7 niggaz in the building to see you

You these god damn streets is so gritty
With sour milk from titties, that'll spoil the
The hood corner backs, attack is a blitz
But we don't lie down for shit, not even hits

From graffiti in New York on the and trains
DJ's in California, to the shores of
B-Boys on the floor who be doing thang
To MC's, behind ropes, who had titles to

My teams about shoot outs, the shout with loud mouths
The clock ran out, the ref the sign, it's over time
The rambling, teams scheme
The championship fending, they must be dreaming

rap players and slayers got a lot of endorsements
Make them law enforcements
Plus, I just down tracks, can't remember the
Producer the beats is wack, sound similar

It be exciting, striking, lightning
Bring the out, to dawn through Harlem
Writing, light stroke from my pen might
The tape lent, got a little air, half the spins

M.C.'s be stuck fear fascination
The nature in the scale of events, the station
I stick up the track, armed only the pen
Terrorize it vocally the force of wind

From graffiti in New York, on the walls and
in California, to the shores of Maine
B-Boys on the floor, who be doing thang
To MC's, behind ropes, who had titles to

is hip hop
(Then white C4, and C5, and C6)
(C5, Queen E5, E5, 95, Bishop C4)
(Masters 3, and castle)