Luyện nghe bài hát Kick In The Door

Your reign on the top was short leprechauns
As I so-called willies, thugs, and rapper-dons
Get in that ass, quick fast, like
Its that rap phenomenon Don-Dadda, fuck
You got ta, me, Francis M.H. White
In totes, tote iron
Was in shootouts, stay low, and keep firin
Keep extra clips for shit
Who's to flip, on that cat with that grip on rap
The mo shady, "Tell em!", Frankie
Ain't no telling I may be
May see me in D.C. at Howard
my man Capone, dumbing, fucking something
You should know my
Went from ten G's for blow to thirty G's a
To orgies hoes I never seen before
So, Jesus, get off the
Penis, before I squeeze and
If the beef between us, we can it
With the chrome and metal
I it hot, like 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, the four-four
All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no

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

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 heard was Poppa don't hit me no

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

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

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

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

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

This goes out for those that to use
views on the King 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 powder than Johnson and
Tote steel like Bronson,
You want to get on son, you to ask me
Ain't no king in this rap thing
They siblings, but my children
One shot, they
Its ill when, MC's used to be on shit
home, Ready to Die, listened, studied shit
Now they on money shit, successful out the blue
They light weight, fragilly, my milly
Make the white shake, that's why my money funny
And you still recouping,