Luyện nghe bài hát Make 'em Pay

First and foremost, rappers are sweet like fructose
I cock back these lyrics, y'all punks best be ghost
I be the seven, twenty-one, eighteen,
The illest one, I'm almost doper anyone
Straight out the nights of Bed-Stuy
Steppin' up, put your weapons up, I make heads fly
You're artificial, like
You're crazy fake, it's more than skills you be in
you bite, 'cause your identity ain't tight
Tryin' to be somethin' you're not, like a knife at a gunfight
I'm on night air, like flight number 1-0-6,
And gettin' all up in your mix
You get me upset, and I got you
'Cause my committee's in city tonight, a'ight?
We got seventeen million of us, plus two Indians
makes nineteen mil, lightin' shit up, like Wild Bill
I be the supreme father, the ill kid, with drama
My karma, the teflon to pierce your body armor
And make sure you check the shit, before you walk to me, or to me
Steppin' to me improperly, you may catch the weaponry
My specialty is tracks out the frame
You know my name, I rule all game
I'm universal, on all planes, what's your

Yo, I be highness, in slickness, you chumps bear witness
Tremendous tropper, nigga, with the fitness
Drop you for your spot the blazer, then I blast ya
Slice precise, like Benihanas, I come to bring the dramas
so swift, that you can't peep the God
As your lyrics get buried, six deep, in my backyard,
I laugh hard, while your mental, I run mazes
stages of terror, to shatter your dressing room mirror
Your whole error gets crushed, your whole show gets
Too many punks want to enter this rap scene
Kickin' Willie Bobo, but need to be slapped
Into oblivion; the champion always rises
I bring surprises to the chief, their advisers
me up, and you will find nothing's larger
Catch more wreck on your dome, than a deranged fuckin'
So what, you made some dough, you best keep on
All vanity, is instantly crushed, when I start handlin'
Demandin' that you pay, for your weak rhyme
Coast to coast, I the fakes everyday

I see as the black Rap Messiah
Colossal, spreadin' my through electrical wires
Spit fire through speech, so I can each and every
Tom, Dick, and Jerry, slippin' like petroleum
Too busy in the limelight, rhyme tight
I got divine to bring y'all to light
Somethin' right, to be an MC, you gotta thug
Or to thug you gotta be an MC, shit is bugged
love but few; deal with crew and crew only
And universal, like Sony
Phony pounds and fake is usually avoided
Give a fuck like Pizza Hut, I got to Noyd-ed
'Cause that same nigga you trust, be that same cat
Behind that gat that bust, ya, with the silencer
it hush, ashes to dust, then dust to ashes
Nowadays it's who pull out the fastest, this
Rap shit without this gat shit, or the cat
In black, 'bout how much his Mac spit
But this year, Gang Starr got changes bein'
No wack shit bein' played, no fake macks paid
No MC's, with a mouth full of Mo'
Soundin' like a ho, spittin' that show flow
I bombshell pastel Chanel rap, through a Maxwell
Ever since Krumb, was taught to rap well
Goin' deep, process of thought, when my eyes
Awaken with interpretive robe and sandals, Moses
Travellin' high and Eastern lands, for the answers
is spreadin' through the streets, like it was cancer
Too many drinkin' not thinkin', when that trigger
A thirty-eight escalate the rate, for us niggaz
It's like, microphone roulette, nowadays MC's is gettin' wet
Over else's fake gangsta rep