Luyện nghe bài hát Make 'em Pay

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

Yo, I be your highness, in slickness, you chumps witness
Tremendous tropper, verbal nigga, with the
Drop you for your spot with the blazer, then I ya
Slice precise, like Benihanas, when I come to the dramas
Styles so swift, that you 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 crushed, your whole show gets bumrushed
Too many dumb punks to enter this rap scene
Kickin' Willie Bobo, but to be slapped clean
Into oblivion; the true always rises
I bring surprises to the chief, plus their
Size me up, and you will find nothing's
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 weak rhyme display
to coast, I break the fakes everyday

I see as the black Rap Messiah
Colossal, spreadin' my gospel through electrical
Spit fire through speech, so I can reach each and
Tom, Dick, and Jerry, like petroleum jelly
Too busy in the limelight, can't tight
I got divine right to bring y'all to
Somethin' ain't right, to be an MC, you gotta
Or to you gotta be an MC, this shit is bugged
love but few; deal with crew and crew only
And think universal, like
pounds and fake hugs is usually avoided
Give a fuck like Pizza Hut, I got to Noyd-ed
'Cause that same nigga you trust, could be that cat
Behind gat that bust, quiet ya, with the silencer
Keep it hush, ashes to dust, dust to ashes
Nowadays who pull out the fastest, imagine this
Rap shit this gat shit, or the phony cat
In black, talkin' 'bout how much his Mac
But this year, Gang Starr got changes made
No wack shit bein' played, no fake macks paid
No Versace MC's, with a full of Mo'
Soundin' like a ho, spittin' that old-fashioned show
I bombshell that Chanel rap, through a Maxwell
Ever since young Krumb, was to rap well
Goin' deep, process of thought, when my eyes
Awaken with interpretive robe and sandals, Moses
Travellin' high sands and Eastern lands, for the
Ignorance is spreadin' the streets, like it was cancer
Too many drinkin' not thinkin', when behind trigger
A thirty-eight the murder rate, for us niggaz
It's like, microphone roulette, 'cause nowadays is gettin' wet
Over someone else's fake rep