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

I'm on a
I hold the pen and stay
The competition my street cats stay listening (word up)
to New York I still walk the walk
Control dancehall, chillin in my b-boy stance
was known to be an emcee
I still rip and flip crowds into a
Reciting facts shit, and it's like herbs to
Bum rushing mic tec slowly at night
with the mic take flight 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 from
Yeah I'm right 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 the pill and I rock with Slum Vill

Ay yo, you want We got tons of them
Pete, Slum and Tim trying to bank shit like the
Get that and dip
Flash the cash in front of
Niggas and shit
Sayin' nothin I'm with them
Oh yo! Peeps got a hold 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 what they doin' with this rap shit
Rap tactics automatic and the fact is y'all know you bored the wack shit
We got that shit that auto and
Track shit and you hear it man I don't know how to act, shit

like the first related verse and now we rock with the beat
Just causality for S and the V
It's like action is what we and receive
Best do we got some shit up our sleeves
Shit to dance to, some shit to the
shit if you dyin' and they help you breathe
Make a handicap exceed with speed
It's like with Toronto to V
Doin this for DET in the to be
Can't forget the 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 name
traveled for miles to Mac Nick
We kick rhymes we know never sound like yours
To the mic lookin' like cheap
this 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' emcees
I shoot the kinda rhymes to the emcees duck
On the mic I never 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 make the that you run out to get
Now this is love at the less, new bomb
Mac Nicholas is earnin' money on some burner

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