Luyện nghe bài hát Hip Hop Is Dead (clean)

If hip hop should die I wake
put an extended clip inside of my AK
Roll to every station, the DJ
to every station, murder the DJ

If hip hop should die I wake
I'll put an clip inside of my AK
Roll to station, murder the DJ
Roll to station, murder the DJ

Hip hop just died mornin'
And she's dead, dead

Yeah, niggaz smoke, laugh, party, and die in the same
Get cash, live fast, their man's mama
Rich-ass niggaz is ridin' three llamas
Revenge in their eyes, Hennessey and the
Word to the wise villain state of minds
Grindin', hittin' Brazilian dimes behind
Grindin', hittin' Brazilian from behind
(Grindin', hittin' Brazilian from behind)
Whenever, if ever, I roll up, it's up
Any ghetto will ya Nas helped grow us up
My face once graced Sony trucks
Hundred million in billin', I build 'em up
Gave my nigga my right, I could have left
So like my girl Foxy, a nigga Def
So, nigga, who's top ten?
Is it MC
Is it MC

If hip hop should die I wake
I'll put an extended clip of my AK
to every station, murder the DJ
Roll to station, murder the DJ

If hip hop should die before I
I'll put an extended inside of my AK
to every station, murder the DJ
Roll to every station, the DJ

Hip hop just died this
And dead, she's dead

The the cap, the bigger the peelin'
Come through, something ill, the ceilin'
What influenced my raps? and killings
Kidnappings, project buildings, drug
that, why is that?
'Cuz Nas rap is compared to crap
'Cuz we to talk on ass we gettin'
Most will only half listen
So you blame jazz musicians
Or David with his NBA fashion issues
Oh, I they me in my white tee
You ice me, we here for life, B
On my second marriage, hip hop's my first
And for we not takin' it lightly
If hip hop should die, we die
Bodies in the morgue lie
All now

If hip hop die before I wake
I'll put an extended clip of my AK
to every station, murder the DJ
Roll to every station, the DJ

If hip hop die before I wake
I'll put an extended inside of my AK
to every station, murder the DJ
Roll to station, murder the DJ

Everybody sound the same, the game
when it wasn't all business
If it got where it
So we all gather for the dearly departed
Hip since a toddler
One homeboy a man then a mobster
If the let me get my last swig of Vodka
R.I.P., we'll your lungs to a Rasta
Went from to mp3s
"Beat Street" to commercials on Mickey D's
From gold to Jacobs
plain facials to Botox and face lifts
I'm over my shoulder
It's about eighty niggaz from my hood showed up
And they to show love
Sold out concert, and the are closed shut