Luyện nghe bài hát Kick In The Door

Your on the top was short like leprechauns
As I so-called willies, thugs, and rapper-dons
Get in ass, quick fast, like ramadan
Its that rap phenomenon Don-Dadda, fuck
You got ta, me, Francis M.H. White
In tank-light totes, tote
Was told in shootouts, low, and keep firin
Keep extra clips for shit
Who's next to flip, on that cat with grip on rap
The mo shady, "Tell em!", Frankie
Ain't no where I may be
May see me in D.C. at Howard
With my man Capone, dumbing, fucking
You should know my
from ten G's for blow to thirty G's a show
To orgies with hoes I seen before
So, Jesus, get off the
Penis, before I and bust
If the between us, we can settle it
the chrome and metal shit
I make it hot, a kettle get
delicate, you better get, who sent ya?
You still pedal shit, I got more rides than Great
Biggie, "How are you do it?"

Kick in the door, waving the
All you was Poppa don't hit me no more

in the door, waving the four-four
All you was Poppa don't hit me no more

in the door, waving the four-four
All you heard was Poppa hit me no more

Kick in the door, the four-four
All you was Poppa don't hit me no more

On ya mark, get set, I spark, ya wet
how dark it get, when ya marked with death
Should I your breath should I let you die
In fear you to cry, ask why
Lyrically, I'm worser, don't the word sick
You cursed it, but it
I unexpectedly like bird shit
You get, stuck quickly for royalties and show money
Don't forget the publishing, I em, I'm done with them
Son, I'm surprised you run with
I think they got cum in them, cause they, nothing but
to blow up like nitro and dynamite sticks
Mad I smoke hydro rock diamonds, that's
Got pay off my flow, rhyme with my own
trips to Cairo, laying with yo bitch
I you praying you was rich, fucking prick
I see ya I'ma

Kick in the door, the four-four
All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no

in the door, waving the four-four
All you heard was Poppa hit me no more

Kick in the door, waving the
All you was Poppa don't hit me no more

Kick in the door, waving the
All you was Poppa don't hit me no more

This goes out for those that to use
Disrespectful views on the of NY
Fuck that, why try, throw bleach in eye
Now ya Braille in it, stash light shit, or scalin it
of ya nonsense in eighty-eight
Sold more than Johnson and Johnson
Tote like Bronson, vigilante
You want to get on son, you to ask me
no other king in this rap thing
They siblings, nothing but my
One shot, disappearing
Its ill when, used to be on cruddy shit
Took home, to Die, listened, studied shit
Now they on some money shit, out the blue
They light weight, fragilly, my milly
the white shake, that's why my money never funny
And you still recouping,