Luyện nghe bài hát Real Shit

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

(1st verse)
is that lost ass track off-the-rack kind of a track
You forced to rap, remember that? that
You know 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 on your lap, ya hand on your gat
Premeditated plan of attack, with two of most deadliest mens in the back
Comb the block, stop in the zone hot
Get out like you own the spot, or not
It's that no to play, move out the my way
Yo, I been whistlin' this from throughout the day
Hey, yo, this is ol' y'all niggas don't wanna battle
Turn it up make the whole block rattle
Boom boom- this one is blazin' hot
Boom make you bust another shot from the Glock

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

(2nd verse)
we come now
Turntable like a merry-go-round
slow down, depending on how good your stereo sounds
Set it, up in the where we go surround
Tearin' through towns, turn 'em into grounds
This is the track that made wanna scratch
The that caused the firs