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 to show up to the studio
Write shit, spit it, hit it, leave ya'll askin "Who dat?"
I'm the next to boom, I assumed ya'll already knew that
Hip hop's hottest new cat, lay your crew
Have your label faxin my label askin "Why 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
What you recorded, that, buy a new DAT
girl's a true rat, so when I fucked her I wore two hats
So move back you little
'Fore you fuck around and do some shit get not only you
But whole crew whacked
Too and I'm too black
And pack not one but two
And I'ma aim em at you black, dat

The veteran that'll retire
Devilish, the red in my eye
Judge the instead of my size
Ahead of my time, the second coming of a legend in
That'll whenever I die
We lie, you'll never get by
I just got love, I to roll wit big shot 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 to shoot
You givin me the key to coupe
Midwest, not the middle, clutchin the five
Wavin the tec out the window, clip touchin the
is over

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
Shit is over, is over
ain't nobody fuckin wit us
Ain't nobody wit us

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

- only first 4 lines]

What what you're not in a least, above gettin shot in the
I up at cyphers and they scatter like I'm the police
Now we got a bunch of thugs on records
Stripped butt-naked runnin when they blood is
All niggas stink, real niggas know what a bitch smell like
Tell you how we tell lies, tell what he wear his like
You can't amaze the amazing, change your
We plant bodies, stones wit the names engraved
The games you play, make me point this your way
My rob for consistency, a chain 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 bursts in a frenzy
It's work till it's empty
Just sure that my gun shoots fastin than yours
And I'm you, and my bullets is chasin yours

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