Luyện nghe bài hát Once Upon a Time

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

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

It's like the first related verse and now we with the beat
Just another for S and the V
like action is what we give and receive
Best do believe we got shit up our sleeves
Shit to dance to, shit to the trees
shit if you dyin' and they help you breathe
Make a handicap nigga with speed
It's like with Toronto to V
Doin this for DET in the to be
Can't the rest R,O,I, and T
Mac baby, what else could it be?
Please, lace me with a for the beat

In the beginning, it was the S, no name shit
Motherfuckers for miles to Mac Nick
We kick rhymes we know they never sound yours
To the mic lookin' like 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' emcees
I the kinda rhymes to make the emcees duck
On the mic I fight I call an angel of war
Slice an emcee my palm, a lyrical sword
You want a bottle? You must be ill

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

What, Slum and we out
No for 98
Settin ya
self laced