Luyện nghe bài hát Make 'em Pay

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

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

I see myself as the black Rap
Colossal, spreadin' my gospel through electrical
Spit through speech, so I can reach each and every
Tom, Dick, and Jerry, like petroleum jelly
Too busy in the limelight, can't tight
I got divine right to bring to light
Somethin' ain't right, to be an MC, you gotta
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 and fake hugs is usually avoided
Give a fuck Pizza Hut, I got to stay Noyd-ed
'Cause that same nigga you trust, be that same cat
Behind that gat that bust, quiet ya, with the
it hush, ashes to dust, then dust to ashes
Nowadays it's who out the fastest, imagine this
Rap without this gat shit, or the phony cat
In black, talkin' how much his Mac spit
But this year, Gang got changes bein' made
No shit bein' played, no fake macks gettin' paid
No Versace MC's, with a full of Mo'
Soundin' like a ho, spittin' that old-fashioned show
I bombshell that pastel Chanel rap, a Maxwell
Ever since Krumb, was taught to rap well
Goin' deep, process of thought, my eyes closes
Awaken with interpretive robe and sandals, like
Travellin' high sands and lands, for the answers
Ignorance is spreadin' through the streets, like it was
Too many drinkin' not thinkin', when behind trigger
A thirty-eight escalate the rate, for us niggaz
It's like, microphone roulette, 'cause nowadays MC's is wet
Over someone else's fake rep