Luyện nghe bài hát It's Over

What, Silky Don
That nigga Strick, Royce the
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 nigga to boom, I assumed ya'll already knew that
Hip hop's hottest new cat, lay your crew
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 than a few cats agree you shouldn't even do rap
you recorded, screw that, buy a new DAT
Your girl's a true rat, so I fucked her I wore two hats
So move you little newjack
'Fore you around and do some shit that get not only you
But your whole crew
Too strong and I'm too
And not one but two gats
And aim em at you black, true dat

The that'll never retire
Devilish, the red in my eye
the nine instead of my size
Ahead of my time, the second coming of a legend in
That'll 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 and blasted
Pits got dugged and filled back up wit wrapped up in plastic
Give me a heater, you givin me a reason to
You me the key to your coupe
Midwest, not the middle, clutchin the five
the tec out the window, clip touchin the tire
Shit is

Shit is over, shit is
The is over, the shit is over
'cause ain't fuckin wit us
nobody fuckin wit us
Shit is over, 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 an alcoholic
So night, I forgot to drive drunk and hit you
Talk lots of and diss you
Pop the trunk and you
Sick nigga, you don't really want it wit Strick,
Freestyle or written shit, take pick, nigga
Bring your click nigga, I'll swing a nigga
Wit hotter rhymes, I'm outta control and you outta
I got alot of rhymes, and I'ma spit till you rhymes
The hot shit, you better off to change the topic
I pop shit to let ya'll know ya'll not shit
Hit the curb swervin in a hot
You a punk and I'm
And you the one that flunked when I got skipped
Incredible and fuck wit niggas for fun
Buck at wit guns, you duck from niggas and run
So who's the illest nigga that you (Who is it?)
Now ask that nigga who's the illest nigga that he
bet he say me, yo
The only thing bigger my dick is my ego
I rip and over, while you stare at the chip on my shoulder
Ya'll don't none of me
Not only I have ya'll scared to bust
But you won't even discuss rap in of me
The favorite to say shit
Then have crew tellin you that nigga Strick's nuttin to play wit
Save it for a day
pick the tec up, aim and spray
And permanently take pain away, what

[Chorus - only 4 lines]

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

Yeah, Big Strick, Royce the
Boy meets Rock-A-Block
Don