Luyện nghe bài hát Hip Hop Is Dead (clean)

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

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

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

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

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 clip of my AK
Roll to station, murder the DJ
to every station, murder the DJ

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

The bigger the cap, the the peelin'
through, something ill, missin' the ceilin'
What influenced my raps? Stick-ups and
Kidnappings, project buildings, dealings
Criticize that, why is
'Cuz Nas rap is compared to crap
'Cuz we love to talk on ass we
Most intellectuals will only half
So you can't jazz musicians
Or Stern with his NBA fashion issues
Oh, I they like me in my tee
You ice me, we here for life, B
On my second marriage, hip hop's my wifey
And for we not takin' it lightly
If hip hop die, we die together
Bodies in the lie together
All now

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

If hip hop should die I wake
I'll put an clip inside of my AK
Roll to every station, 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 here for the dearly
Hip hopper since a
One homeboy became a man a mobster
If the guys let me get my 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 lookin' over my
It's about eighty from my hood that showed up
And they came to show
Sold out concert, and the doors are closed