Luyện nghe bài hát No Airplay

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

One two, out for the man in blue
Three four, I keep it raw and
Five six, you're 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
*repeat 2x: first "ah"; second time "once I leave the pen"*

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

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

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

Yo bust
Forty caliber, seventeen through character
world, underwater, sub mariner
Derringer, twenty-two one in the
Seven, four-eight, 23rd on the
My word verses, burst raps you rap
It's worthless, you get up, on the surface
Projectile, my style, blood on silver
The red ripper, fill up the nigga
Armageddeon, you dead on, a world crisis
The nicest, for sixteen bars, of

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

You got a gat nigga, use it, go pull it
Scientists got raw footage of me bullets
I walk the streets heat, three biscuits
Outnumberin niggaz glocks with triplets
When I shit I lace it, you get punched in face with
Puncutations of phrases
I assure you the vocalist before you
Will destroy you temperatures hot enough to flamebroil you
My tongue moves much faster yours do
Every three thousand I change my voiceboxes oil
you in front of your crew to annoy you
If you know some chicks that 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 you, me versus you, I hurt you
My balance me to squaredance in a circle
Your head'll spin so you'll catch whiplash
I practice lyrical witchcraft on your ass
Make your drive crash to c colon backslash (c:/)
Go to the roots and reprogram your wack ass, nigga

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

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