Luyện nghe bài hát Real Shit

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

(1st verse)
This is that lost ass track kind of a track
You forced to rap, that? It's that
You know where I'm at, go the gat
Pass me a bat, the kind of attack
Steamin' ___, speedin' the map
with a chick, she got her head on your lap, ya hand on your gat
Premeditated plan of attack, with two of most deadliest mens in the back
the block, stop 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 this tune from throughout the day
Hey, yo, this is that ol' y'all niggas wanna battle
it up loud make the whole block rattle
Boom boom- this one is gettin' hot
Boom boom- make you bust another shot the Glock

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

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