Luyện nghe bài hát Real Shit

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

(1st verse)
is that lost ass track off-the-rack kind of a track
You forced to rap, remember that? It's
You know I'm at, there go the gat
Pass me a bat, the kill-or-be-killed kind of
Steamin' ___, navigatin' the map
Negotiating with a chick, she got her head on lap, ya hand on your gat
Premeditated plan of attack, with two of your most mens in the back
the block, stop 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 make the whole block
Boom boom- this one is gettin' hot
Boom boom- make you another shot from the Glock

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

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