Luyện nghe bài hát Real Shit

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

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

(Chorus)
From the streets below to everything
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 with tongues
From the streets my feet to the sun
I'm one and competition is still none
And I'm gonna keep kicking 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 slow down, depending on how good your sounds
Set it, up in the hood where we go
Tearin' through towns, turn 'em into grounds
This is the track that made Theodore wanna
The track caused the firs