Luyện nghe bài hát Once Upon a Time

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

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

like the first related verse and now we rock with the beat
Just causality for S and the V
like 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 shit if you and they help you breathe
Make a handicap nigga exceed speed
It's totally with Toronto to V
Doin for DET in the place to be
Can't the rest R,O,I, and T
Mac Nicholas baby, what else it be?
Please, me with a scratch for the beat

In the beginning, it was the S, never no shit
Motherfuckers traveled for miles to Mac
We kick rhymes we know they never like yours
To the mic lookin' like thoughts
Fuck rap shit, I'm too smart for that
I do this shit for kicks with my crew, that
The S is on the way to makin' quick
I shoot the kinda rhymes to make the duck
On the mic I never I call an angel of war
an emcee with my palm, a lyrical sword
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 earnin' money on some shit

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