Luyện nghe bài hát Make 'em Pay

First and foremost, some rappers are sweet like
When I cock back lyrics, y'all punks best be ghost
I be the seven, twenty-one, eighteen,
The illest one, I'm almost doper than
Straight out the late nights of
Steppin' up, put your weapons up, I make heads fly
artificial, like saccarhin
You're crazy fake, it's more than skills you be in
Concepts you bite, your identity ain't tight
Tryin' to be somethin' you're not, like pullin' a knife at a
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 seventeen million of us, two million Indians
That nineteen mil, lightin' shit up, like Wild Bill
I be the supreme father, the ill kid, with drama
My karma, creates the teflon to pierce your armor
And make sure you the shit, before you walk to me, or talk to me
to me improperly, you just may catch the weaponry
My specialty is tracks out the frame
You know my fuckin' name, I all game
I'm universal, on all planes, your claim?

Yo, I be your highness, in slickness, you bear witness
Tremendous tropper, nigga, with the fitness
Drop you for your spot with the blazer, then I ya
precise, like Benihanas, when I come to bring the dramas
Styles so swift, that you peep the God
As your get buried, six feet deep, in my backyard,
I laugh hard, while your mental, I run through
Dark of terror, to shatter your dressing room mirror
Your whole error gets crushed, whole show gets bumrushed
Too many dumb punks want to enter this rap
Kickin' Willie Bobo, but need to be slapped
Into oblivion; the true champion always
I surprises to the chief, plus their advisers
Size me up, and you find nothing's larger
Catch more wreck on your dome, a deranged fuckin' barber
So what, you made some dough, you keep on scramblin'
All your vanity, is crushed, when I start handlin'
Demandin' that you pay, for weak rhyme display
to coast, I break the fakes everyday

I see myself as the Rap Messiah
Colossal, spreadin' my gospel through wires
Spit fire speech, so I can reach each and every
Tom, Dick, and Jerry, slippin' petroleum jelly
Too busy in the limelight, can't rhyme
I got right to bring y'all to light
ain't right, to be an MC, you gotta thug
Or to thug you be an MC, this shit is bugged
love but few; deal with crew and crew only
And universal, like Sony
pounds and fake hugs is usually avoided
Give a fuck like Hut, I got to stay Noyd-ed
'Cause that same you trust, could be that same cat
Behind that gat bust, quiet ya, with the silencer
Keep it hush, to dust, then dust to ashes
Nowadays it's who out the fastest, imagine this
Rap shit this gat shit, or the phony cat
In black, 'bout how much his Mac spit
But this year, Gang Starr got bein' made
No wack shit bein' played, no fake macks paid
No Versace MC's, with a full of Mo'
Soundin' like a ho, that old-fashioned show flow
I bombshell that pastel Chanel rap, a Maxwell
Ever since Krumb, was taught to rap well
Goin' deep, process of thought, when my eyes
Awaken with interpretive and sandals, like Moses
Travellin' high and Eastern lands, for the answers
Ignorance is spreadin' 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, 'cause MC's is gettin' wet
Over someone else's fake rep