Luyện nghe bài hát No Airplay

f/ Canibus,

Yo the Brooklyn Bridge is gonna y'know?
Yo Wyclef Jean and the ReFugee All-Stars up in here
Yo what's this I hear about the in Brooklyn?
Turn jam up, yo, yo
This the type of jam that be getting no
I want the world to hear this joint right here, yo
This the type of jam 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, beating us with nightsticks
Seven eight, I'm to pack a thirty-eight
Nine ten, you put me in a if I could
do it all again, I'd probably your chin
*repeat 2X: first "ah"; second time "once I leave the pen"*

I'm from a land of black bats, alley rats and
Scratch up my car, set me up for the
Under pressure, I leave the gat
Two straps, a total of sixteen
Say positive? No positivity
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 ball or you drug dealy dealy
on the block 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 same time, we 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, like no more eviction
No more war milk, no more cheese
Police on shootin at our bulletproof Bentley

Yo the type of jam that be getting no airplay
The Brooklyn Bridge 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, you're us with nightsticks
Seven eight, I'm to pack a thirty-eight
Nine ten, you put me in a if I could
do it all again, I'd probably your chin

Yo bust
Forty caliber, seventeen through character
Waterworld's world, underwater, Sub
Derringer, one in the challenger
Seven, four-eight, 23rd on the
My verses, burst raps you rap nervous
worthless, you get smashed up, on the surface
Projectile, my forty-four style, blood on
The red ripper, fill up the resevoir
Armageddeon, you smack dead on, a world
The nicest, for bars, of preciseness

One two, watch out for the man in
Three four, I 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
got raw footage of me dodgin bullets
I walk the with heat, three biscuits
niggaz twin glocks with triplets
When I spit I lace it, you get punched in face with
puncutations of five-knuckle
I assure you the standin before you
will destroy you with temperatures hot to flamebroil you
My tongue moves much faster than do
three thousand styles I change my voiceboxes oil
Embarass you in of your crew to annoy you
If you know some chicks suck a good dick, then I'll employ you
To hip-hop shit, Canibus stays loyal
That's why every Killuminati I somebody for you
I'm you, me versus you, I hurt you
My balance me to squaredance in a circle
Your head'll so fast you'll catch whiplash
I practice lyrical witchcraft on bitch ass
Make your hard drive crash to C backslash (C:/)
Go back to the roots and reprogram your ass, nigga

One two, watch out for the man in
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 whole
Where at? Where Brooklyn at? (right here, right here)
A-ight? New in the house...

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