Luyện nghe bài hát God Lives Through

[Intro: Busta
I always wanted to rhyme on shit
Yea... La La La La
La La... I always wanted to sing shit

[Verse 1: Busta
Yo, when i come with the
Like a baby when they they first words
So when i speak can even burst nerves
rhymes flying like the first bird
Penthouse view I help ya see the earth
I scorch the street and you can search for
I sick before i speak my thoughts hurt the words
i come, i come to get you what you each deserve
Feed the street the that make em want to eat the curb
Well if you lookin for me, i am, run
Because you can't erase me, it how it come
You might as well embrace me, somehow i'm never
Maybach Zeppelin, em metallic plum
And while im having fun, we keep it bouncing
Unraveling another bag of the money, keep
When a cup runeth over like a broken water
Here i am like i at the top of the mountain
Or i am back from vacation, see ya boy is home
Parading for the kid, they cus the cornerstone
Invading so incredibly like im local homes
Connect the international like a global phone
so magical how i hold my own or with my brother cmon
Or when i the chrome, merciless with my advesaries
I'm so alone, i'm in a place into planetary i'm in a
Insighting int spots see how i get em
Got em wild see how i be smilin when i'm em
Then i remind em, see i'm right behind em i hit em
Cus when i kill em got them bottles in ice buckets
You know we gotta em, touching us over the streets
See how got up in em, then im back to my city
To properly put em on and make an
Impression, my sing along now

[Verse 2: Dawg]
There's a million MCs that claim they some
But see I create sounds make your ears go numb
to Sayres Ave., yeah you know how we go
My best friend at the Home Depot
Laurelton is in the house, I can't forget
Walk past MCs like that girl did to
I'm labeled as the cat's meow, the MC with the
Act like you know, not now but now
Beast of the East, on MCs I a feast
I'd eat ass like quiche, crack a smile like Shanice
Straight Jamaica, seen? Jamaica, Queens
But you find me out in Georgia, or anywhere in between
Now if my partners don't good, Malik won't look good
If Malik don't look good, then Quest won't good
If the don't look good, then Queens won't look good
But since the sounds are universal, New York won't good
Picture losing a battle, come on, get off it
Put down the microphone son, surrender,
Did I hear something 'bout a crew? What they do?
You better call Mr. Babyface so he can bring out the in you
Or it'll be a sad love being sung by Toni Braxton
And I'll dissect you a fraction
Oh, you wannabe top cat MCs, pop you like a zit
You wanna be the champ, you more Chief Some-shit
Big up myself every time when it to this
MCs be running scared as if watching the Exorcist
I kick game than a crackhead from Hempstead
My styles are milk, man, you'd that I was breast-fed
You know the steelo when the Dawg is on the scene
I dedicate this to all the MCs outta
goes for Onyx, LL, Run DMC
Akinyele, Nasty Nas and the P
You need a chart, straight up and down man, there ain't no
respect to all my peeps that made the album cover
Yo, Tip don't none you know I get the party jumping
Get on the mic and break 'em off a little something
Yo, Tip don't none you know I gets the party jumping
Get on the mic my man and break 'em off a something

[Verse 3:
We got the funk don shit, clearly it's the bomb shit
So me, kids memorize me
Everyday, I be scrounging, really I be
I play the down low, very very
Aries is my sign, I know I can rhyme
Sometimes I rhyme in riddles, plus I make the honeys
Intellect is the major, heads like to wager
The skills on the hill, overlooking dollar
Man, crazy, thinking you can phase me
The Ab doesn't mere nonsense, money
Life seems to need me, MCs too cheesy
With their doody ass of defeating competition
I rock to the roll man, yes, I'm a man
Bet your bottom dollar Vinia will you holler
As you at attention, did I forget to mention
MCs give me twenty if I sense that they act funny
Lyrics are abundant, right there, I redundant
Just the fact that the area is fat
I dwell in the under, so honey it's no
That I get plenty of tail, well I even get
I'mma bet hitting head crack, there money, that
niggas off, cut their bank, then I'm off
While my Nikes match my Lo hat, beat is mad fat
Got the of the box if a kid think he's ox
For means creator, the poetry relator
It's like Betsy Ross, let me tell you who's the boss

[Outro:
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