Luyện nghe bài hát It's Over

What, Don Entertainment
That nigga Strick, Royce the
all day, what yo yo yo
I'm the to show up to the studio
Write that shit, spit it, hit it, ya'll askin "Who dat?"
I'm the nigga to boom, I assumed ya'll already knew that
Hip hop's hottest new cat, lay crew flat
your label faxin my label 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
What you recorded, that, buy a new DAT
Your girl's a true rat, so I fucked her I wore two hats
So move back you newjack
you fuck around and do some shit that get not only you
But your whole whacked
Too strong and I'm too
And not one but two gats
And aim em at you black, true dat

The veteran that'll never
Devilish, the red in my eye
Judge the instead of my size
Ahead of my time, the coming of a legend in rhymes
That'll shine 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 up wit stiffs wrapped up in plastic
Give me a heater, you me a reason to shoot
You givin me the key to 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 shit is over, the shit is
'cause ain't fuckin wit us
Ain't nobody 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 got Ahlzeimer's, my dad's an alcoholic
So last night, I to drive drunk and hit you
lots of junk and diss you
Pop the and split you
Sick nigga, you don't really it wit Strick, nigga
or written shit, take your pick, nigga
Bring your click nigga, swing a stick nigga
Wit hotter rhymes, I'm outta and you outta line
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 niggas ya'll not shit
Hit the swervin in a hot whip
You a punk and I'm
And you probably the one that flunked 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 nigga that he know
bet he say me, yo
The only bigger than my dick is my ego
I rip and over, while you stare at the chip on my shoulder
Ya'll don't want of me
Not only I have ya'll scared to bust
But you even discuss rap in front of me
The odds-on favorite to say
Then have your crew you that nigga Strick's nuttin to play wit
it for a rainy day
I'll pick the tec up, aim and
And permanently take pain away, what

[Chorus - only first 4

What what you're not in a least, gettin shot in the street
I show up at cyphers and 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 niggas stink, real niggas know what a bitch smell like
you how we tell lies, tell what he wear his hair like
You can't the amazing, change your ways
We plant bodies, throw stones wit the names
The games you play, make me point this thing way
My niggas rob for consistency, a a day
I'm about as humble as I can to be
A real nigga's best friend, a bitch nigga's worst
It hurt, it offends me
The chrome bursts in a
It's work till it's empty
Just makin sure that my gun shoots fastin than
And I'm chasin you, and my bullets is yours

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