Luyện nghe bài hát No Airplay

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

One two, watch out for the man in
four, I keep it raw and hardcore
Five six, you're beating us 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 bust chin
2x: first time "ah"; second time "once I leave the pen"*

I'm from a land of bats, alley rats and cats
Scratch up my car, set me up for the
pressure, I gotta leave the gat
Two straps, a total of caps
Say something positive? no
More positivity, positivity brutality
Thugs get angry, the violence
You want peace, make wyclef of police
through the hood, it's the same ol story
It's either you play ball or you drug dealy
Standin on the block when the get hot
Guaranteed to get set up, by a cop
So I'm sittin back, rhymin on
Anything I touch, it turns
Me and wonder, we keep it credible
For the streets, at the time, we gotta eat
When we it's to enterprise
We guarantee to sell a mil before we die
But is broke, that's the situation
Nine-seven, it's like no more
No more war milk, no 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 no airplay
The ghettoes are fed up, we got the in the air

One two, out for the man in blue
Three four, I keep it raw and
Five six, beating us with nightsticks
Seven eight, I'm forced to 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, through your character
world, underwater, sub mariner
Derringer, twenty-two one in the
Seven, four-eight, 23rd on the
My verses, burst raps you rap nervous
It's worthless, you get up, on the surface
Projectile, my forty-four style, on silver
The red ripper, fill up the resevoir
Armageddeon, you smack dead on, a crisis
The nicest, for sixteen bars, of

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

You got a gat nigga, use it, go 'head it
Scientists got raw footage of me dodgin
I walk the with heat, three biscuits
niggaz twin glocks with triplets
When I spit shit I lace it, you get in face with
Puncutations of five-knuckle
I assure you the vocalist standin you
Will destroy you with hot enough to flamebroil you
My tongue moves much than yours do
Every three thousand styles I change my oil
Embarass you in front of your crew to you
If you know some chicks that suck a good dick, I'll employ you
To hip-hop shit, canibus stays loyal
why every killuminati I battle somebody for you
I'm you, me versus you, I hurt you
My balance enables me to squaredance in a
Your head'll spin so fast you'll whiplash
I practice lyrical on your bitch ass
Make your hard crash to c colon backslash (c:/)
Go to the roots and reprogram your wack ass, nigga

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

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