Luyện nghe bài hát It's Over

What, Silky Don
That nigga Strick, the 5'9''
Rock-A-Block all day, yo yo yo
I'm the to show up to the studio
Write shit, spit it, hit it, leave ya'll askin "Who dat?"
I'm the next nigga to boom, I assumed already knew that
Hip hop's new cat, lay your crew flat
Have your label faxin my askin "Why ya'll have to do that?"
It's a fact, when you rap, the crowd boo that
And more than a few cats agree you even do rap
you recorded, screw that, buy a new DAT
Your girl's a rat, so when I fucked her I wore two hats
So back you little newjack
'Fore you fuck around and do shit that get not only you
But your crew whacked
Too strong and I'm too
And not one but two gats
And I'ma aim em at you black, dat

The veteran never retire
Devilish, the red in my eye
Judge the nine of my size
Ahead of my time, the second coming of a in rhymes
shine whenever I die
We never lie, you'll get by
I just got love, I used to roll wit big thugs to hip hop clubs
You act up, the fifth got hugged and
Pits got dugged and filled back up wit stiffs up in plastic
Give me a heater, you me a reason to shoot
You givin me the key to coupe
Midwest, not the middle, Strick the five
the tec out the window, clip touchin the tire
Shit is

Shit is over, is over
The is over, the shit is over
'cause ain't nobody wit us
Ain't fuckin wit us
is over, shit is over, BYE BYE
Shit is over, is over
'cause nobody fuckin wit us
Ain't fuckin wit us

Aiyyo my mom's got Ahlzeimer's, my dad's an
So last night, I forgot to drunk and hit you
Talk lots of and diss you
Pop the trunk and you
Sick nigga, you don't really it wit Strick, nigga
or written shit, take your pick, nigga
Bring your click nigga, I'll swing a stick
Wit hotter rhymes, I'm outta and you outta line
I got alot of rhymes, and spit till you outta rhymes
The hot shit, you off tryin to change the topic
I pop to let ya'll niggas know ya'll not shit
Hit the curb in a hot whip
You a punk and I'm
And you probably the one that flunked when I got
Incredible rhymin and wit niggas for fun
Buck at niggas wit guns, you duck niggas and run
So who's the illest nigga you know? (Who is it?)
Now ask that nigga who's the nigga that he know
bet he say me, yo
The only thing bigger my dick is my ego
I rip and it's over, while you stare at the chip on my
Ya'll don't want of me
Not only will I have ya'll to bust
But you won't even rap in front of me
The odds-on favorite to say
Then have your crew tellin you nigga Strick's nuttin to play wit
it for a rainy day
I'll pick the tec up, aim and
And permanently take your away, what

[Chorus - first 4 lines]

What what not in a least, above gettin shot in the street
I show up at and they scatter like I'm the police
Now we got a bunch of drug-connected on records
Stripped butt-naked runnin they blood is tested
All ya'll niggas stink, real niggas know a bitch smell like
Tell you how we lies, tell what he wear his hair like
You can't amaze the amazing, your ways
We plant bodies, throw stones wit the names
The games you play, make me point thing your way
My niggas rob for consistency, a a day
I'm about as as I can pretend to be
A nigga's best friend, a bitch nigga's worst enemy
It hurt, it offends me
The chrome in a frenzy
It's gon' work till empty
Just makin that my gun shoots fastin than yours
And I'm chasin you, and my bullets is chasin

Yeah, Big Strick, the 5'9''
Tommy Boy meets
Don