Luyện nghe bài hát Kick In The Door

Your reign on the top was like leprechauns
As I crush so-called willies, thugs, and
Get in ass, quick fast, like ramadan
Its rap phenomenon Don-Dadda, fuck Poppa
You got ta, call me, M.H. White
In totes, tote iron
Was in shootouts, stay low, and keep firin
Keep clips for extra shit
Who's next to flip, on cat with that grip on rap
The mo shady, "Tell em!", Frankie
no telling where I may be
May see me in D.C. at Howard
With my man Capone, dumbing, something
You know my steelo
from ten G's for blow to thirty G's a show
To with hoes I never seen before
So, Jesus, get off the
Penis, before I squeeze and
If the beef us, we can settle it
the chrome and metal shit
I make it hot, like a get
You're delicate, you better get, who ya?
You pedal shit, I got more rides than Great Adventure
Biggie, "How are you do it?"

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 Poppa don't hit me no

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

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

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

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 hit me no more

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

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

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