Luyện nghe bài hát Once Upon a Time

I'm on a
I hold the pen and twisted
The competition my street cats will listening (word up)
Detroit to New York I still the walk
Control dancehall, chillin in my b-boy stance
Never was known to be an
I still rip and flip crowds a frenzy
Reciting facts shit, and like herbs to bite
Bum mic tec playing slowly at night
Coincide with the mic flight above shores (word of mouth)
I mines from yours
I look ya up and as I in your face
big mind's on a hum hum
The one you got your from
I'm right here son, straight out the slum
Makin for dough, gettin paid to do shows
So when I blow (what) the niggas my flow
Ay yo I'm nice with the pill and I rock Slum Vill

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

It's like the first 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 shit up our sleeves
to dance to, some shit to the trees
Some if you dyin' and they help you breathe
Make a nigga exceed with speed
like totally with Toronto to V
Doin this for DET in the to be
forget the rest R,O,I, and T
Mac Nicholas baby, else could it be?
Please, lace me with a scratch for the

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

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

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