Luyện nghe bài hát Real Shit

It's the paragraph
The wild fashioner
It's the god Rakim, the
Feel

(1st verse)
This is that lost ass off-the-rack kind of a track
You forced to rap, remember that? that
You where I'm at, there go the gat
Pass me a bat, the kill-or-be-killed kind of
___, speedin' navigatin' the map
Negotiating with a chick, she got her head on your lap, ya hand on gat
plan of attack, with two of your most deadliest mens in the back
Comb the block, in the zone that's hot
Get out you own the spot, home or not
that no mood to play, move out the my way
Yo, I been whistlin' this tune throughout the day
Hey, yo, this is that ol' y'all niggas don't battle
Turn it up loud the whole block rattle
Boom boom- this one is blazin' hot
Boom boom- make you bust another shot from the

(Chorus)
From the streets below to above
To the that pumps Ra-kim Allah's blood
I swear I kick a hole in speaker and pull the plug
You emcee's is playing tug-a-war your tongues
From the streets beneath my to the sun
I'm one and competition is still none
And I'm gonna keep kicking holes in your speakers and pullin'
You emcee's is playing tug-a-war your tongues

(2nd verse)
we come now
Turntable spin like a
Never slow down, depending on how good stereo sounds
Set it, up in the hood where we go
Tearin' through towns, 'em into burial grounds
This is the track that made wanna scratch
The track that caused the