Luyện nghe bài hát Handwriting on the Wall

We on some of the Opera shit
It's the gothic shit as I produce the waterproof
You ask the question, "Who's the man behind the red mask?"
About to a drive-by on MC's so listen,

Yo my mic check is
Run over the track till my lyrical slow flow
Cardiac like FloJo, rock ice Ro-Ro
Pack fo-fo fo' though

More and cream, and niggaz still love you Rakeem
The game of death, we niggaz in the chest like Kareem
My is wider than Rodan
My sweet and sour niggaz wit' nose sniff blow by the gram

I gramatically slam, before I eat a bitch pussy
The Honorable Minister Louis Farrakhan is ham
So me in Deep Space Nine
Wit million stories on seven continents

And six bullets on the Star Trek
Solid state logic thug electronic
Eat, drink, sleep, shit, fuck, and smoke chronic
Playa, this is not a game, I said it

Went the door I came wit Wu-Tang
The artist know as you
Got out his truck on Florence and Normandy Duke
We Digital

Yo, yo, yo, yo
The Last Starfighter, my thoughts make the sun brighter
I bust in a bitch mouth to make her seem whiter
Roam like space drones all time zones

Your face get blown, I make home, Bobby'll Grace Jones
Mocha without lithium cristal
Raise the pendulum cuts through your ear tissue, Digital
Scramble brain then we gain the visuals

Microsoft, I might micro-walk before the lights go off
You develic bitches, I your tonsils eighty stitches
Bobby long storm, even fuck the Eastwick