Luyện nghe bài hát Once Upon a Time [Original Mix]

I'm on a
I the pen and stay twisted
The my street cats will stay listening (word up)
to New York I still walk the walk
Control dancehall, in my b-boy stance y'all
was known to be an emcee
I still rip and flip crowds into a
facts shit, and it's like herbs to bite
Bum rushing mic tec playing slowly at
Coincide with the mic flight above shores (word of mouth)
I separate 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 here son, out the slum
Makin tracks for dough, gettin paid to do
So when I blow (what) the respect my flow
Ay yo I'm nice with the pill and I rock with Vill

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

It's like the first related verse and now we rock the beat
Just another for S and the V
It's like is what we give and receive
do believe we got some shit up our sleeves
Shit to dance to, shit to the trees
Some if you dyin' and they help you breathe
Make a nigga exceed with speed
It's like totally with to V
this for DET in the place to be
Can't forget the R,O,I, and T
Mac Nicholas baby, else could it be?
Please, me with a scratch for the beat

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

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

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