Luyện nghe bài hát Make 'em Pay

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

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

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