Luyện nghe bài hát No Airplay

Yo the bridge is gonna collapse y'know?
Yo this wyclef jean and the all-stars up in here
Yo what's this I hear about the police in
this jam up, yo, yo
This the of jam that be getting no airplay
I the whole world to hear this joint right here, yo
This the type of jam that be no airplay
You asked for it buddy, here it

One two, watch out for the man in
Three four, I it raw and hardcore
Five six, you're beating us nightsticks
Seven eight, I'm to pack a thirty-eight
Nine ten, you put me in a pen; if I
Do it all again, I'd bust your chin
*repeat 2x: first "ah"; second time "once I leave the pen"*

I'm from a land of black bats, alley rats and
up my car, set me up for the carjack
Under pressure, I leave the gat
Two straps, a of sixteen caps
Say something no positivity
More positivity, more positivity
Thugs get angry, the violence
You want peace, make wyclef chief of
Riding through the hood, it's the ol story
It's either you play ball or you drug dealy
Standin on the block the spot get hot
Guaranteed to get set up, by a cop
So I'm back, rhymin on instrumentals
Anything I touch, it turns
Me and wonder, we keep it credible
For the streets, at the same time, we eat
When we commercialize to enterprise
We guarantee to sell a hundred mil we die
But jerry is broke, that's the
Nine-seven, like no more eviction
No more war milk, no more government
Police keep on shootin at our bulletproof

Yo this the type of jam that be no airplay
The brooklyn about to collapse, apocalypse
the type of jam that be getting no airplay
The are fed up, we got the arms in the air

One two, out for the man in blue
Three four, I it raw and hardcore
Five six, beating us with nightsticks
Seven eight, I'm forced to pack a
Nine ten, you put me in a pen; if I
Do it all again, I'd probably bust chin

Yo bust
Forty caliber, seventeen your character
world, underwater, sub mariner
Derringer, twenty-two one in the
Seven, four-eight, on the calender
My word verses, burst you rap nervous
worthless, you get smashed up, on the surface
Projectile, my forty-four style, on silver
The red ripper, up the resevoir nigga
Armageddeon, you smack dead on, a world
The nicest, for bars, of preciseness

One two, out for the man in blue
Three four, I it raw and hardcore
Five six, sticking me with nightsticks
Seven eight, I'm to call canibus
Nine ten, you put me in a if I could
Do it all again, I'd probably bust whole chin

You got a gat nigga, use it, go 'head it
Scientists got raw footage of me dodgin
I walk the streets with heat, three
Outnumberin niggaz glocks with triplets
When I spit shit I lace it, you get punched in with
Puncutations of phrases
I assure you the standin before you
Will destroy you with temperatures hot enough to you
My tongue much faster than yours do
Every three thousand styles I my voiceboxes oil
Embarass you in front of crew to annoy you
If you know some chicks suck a good dick, then I'll employ you
To this hip-hop shit, canibus stays
That's why every I battle somebody for you
I'm warnin you, me you, I hurt you
My enables me to squaredance in a circle
Your head'll spin so fast you'll whiplash
I practice lyrical witchcraft on your ass
Make your hard drive to c colon backslash (c:/)
Go back to the roots and your wack ass, nigga

One two, watch out for the man in
Three four, I it raw and hardcore
Five six, sticking us with nightsticks
eight, I'm forced to pack a thirty-eight
Nine ten, you put me in a pen; if I
Do it all again, I'd probably bust your chin
Where brooklyn at? where brooklyn at? (right here, here)
new jersey in the house...

The people gestapo, what what
Yo, there'll be no to this revolution
There will be no sequel to this
The people versus
There'll be no to this revolution, what what