Luyện nghe bài hát Once Upon a Time

I'm on a
I hold the pen and twisted
The competition my cats will stay listening (word up)
to New York I still walk the walk
Control dancehall, chillin in my stance y'all
Never was to be an emcee
I still rip and crowds into a frenzy
Reciting facts shit, and it's like to bite
Bum rushing mic tec slowly at night
Coincide with the mic take above shores (word of mouth)
I separate from yours
I ya up and as I stare in your face
big mind's on a hum hum
The one you got your idea
Yeah I'm right here son, out the slum
Makin tracks for dough, paid to do shows
So when I blow (what) the niggas respect my
Ay yo I'm with the pill and I rock with Slum Vill

Ay yo, you want We got tons of them
Pete, Slum and Tim trying to shit like the Huntington
Get that and dip
Flash the in front of them
gruntin' and shit
Sayin' nothin I'm done with
Oh yo! Peeps ain't got a they gun on them
Cause if one of them cats jump, we all in
that!
We got somethin' for the dumb
Bubble yum chewin that don't know what they doin' with rap shit
Rap tactics automatic and the fact is y'all know you bored with the shit
We got that shit that auto and
Track shit and when you it man I don't know how to act, shit

It's like the related verse and now we rock with the beat
another causality for S and the V
It's action is what we give and receive
Best do believe we got some shit up our
Shit to dance to, some shit to the
shit if you dyin' and they help you breathe
Make a handicap exceed with speed
like totally with Toronto to V
Doin for DET in the place to be
forget the rest R,O,I, and T
Mac Nicholas baby, what could it be?
Please, lace me with a scratch for the

In the beginning, it was the S, no name shit
Motherfuckers traveled for to Mac Nick
We kick rhymes we know they never sound yours
To the mic lookin' cheap thoughts
Fuck this rap shit, I'm too smart for
I do this shit for kicks with my crew, believe
The S is on the way to makin' emcees
I shoot the kinda rhymes to make the duck
On the mic I never I call an angel of war
Slice an emcee with my palm, a lyrical
You really a bottle? You must be ill

Well it's the S, numero uno, I'm in favorite
The negroes the music that you run out to get
Now this is at the less, new bomb shit
Mac is earnin' money on some burner shit

What, Vill and we out
No for 98
Settin ya
Getcha self