Luyện nghe bài hát Real Shit

It's the paragraph
The wild style
the god Rakim, the master
Feel

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

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

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