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, fast, like ramadan
Its that rap phenomenon Don-Dadda, Poppa
You got ta, call me, Francis M.H.
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 that grip on rap
The mo shady, "Tell em!", baby
Ain't no telling I may be
May see me in D.C. at Homecoming
With my man Capone, dumbing, fucking
You should know my
Went from ten G's for to thirty G's a show
To orgies with I never seen before
So, Jesus, get off the
Penis, before I squeeze and
If the beef between us, we can it
the chrome and metal shit
I make it hot, like a get
You're delicate, you 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 hit me no more

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

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

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

On ya mark, get set, I spark, ya wet
Look how dark it get, when ya marked with
Should I start your should I let you die
In fear you to cry, ask why
Lyrically, I'm worser, don't front the word
You it, but rehearsed it
I drop like bird shit
You herbs get, stuck quickly for royalties and money
Don't forget the publishing, I punish em, I'm done with
Son, I'm surprised you run them
I think they got cum in them, cause they, but dicks
to blow up like nitro and dynamite sticks
Mad I smoke rock diamonds, that's sick
Got pay off my flow, with my own click
Take to Cairo, laying with yo bitch
I know you praying you was rich, fucking
I see ya I'ma

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

Kick in the door, waving the
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

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

goes out for those that choose to use
Disrespectful views on the of NY
that, why try, throw bleach in your eye
Now ya Braille in it, stash light shit, or scalin it
Conscience of ya in eighty-eight
more powder than Johnson and Johnson
Tote steel like Bronson,
You to get on son, you need to ask me
Ain't no other in this rap thing
They siblings, but my children
One shot, they
Its ill when, used to be on cruddy shit
Took home, Ready to Die, listened, studied
Now they on some money shit, out the blue
light weight, fragilly, my nine milly
Make the white shake, that's why my never funny
And you recouping, stupid