Luyện nghe bài hát It's Over

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

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

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

Aiyyo my mom's got Ahlzeimer's, my an alcoholic
So last night, I to drive drunk and hit you
Talk lots of junk and you
Pop the and split you
Sick nigga, you really want it wit Strick, nigga
Freestyle or shit, take your pick, nigga
your click nigga, I'll swing a stick nigga
Wit hotter rhymes, I'm outta control and you line
I got alot of rhymes, and I'ma spit till you rhymes
The hot shit, you better off tryin to change the
I pop to let ya'll niggas know ya'll not shit
Hit the swervin in a hot whip
You a and I'm here
And you probably the one that when I got skipped
rhymin and fuck wit niggas for fun
Buck at niggas wit guns, you duck from and run
So who's the nigga that you know? (Who is it?)
Now ask nigga who's the illest nigga that he know
bet he say me, yo
The only thing than my dick is my ego
I rip and it's over, while you stare at the on my shoulder
Ya'll don't none of me
Not only will I have ya'll to bust
But you even discuss rap in front of me
The odds-on favorite to say
Then have your crew tellin you nigga Strick's nuttin to play wit
Save it for a day
I'll pick the tec up, aim and
And permanently take your away, what

[Chorus - only 4 lines]

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

Yeah, Big Strick, the 5'9''
Boy meets Rock-A-Block
Don