Luyện nghe bài hát Real Shit

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

(1st verse)
This is that lost ass track off-the-rack of a track
You forced to rap, remember that? It's
You where I'm at, there go the gat
me a bat, the kill-or-be-killed kind of attack
Steamin' ___, 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 most deadliest mens in the
Comb the block, stop in the zone hot
Get out you own the spot, home or not
It's that no to play, move out the my way
Yo, I been this tune from throughout the day
Hey, yo, this is that ol' y'all niggas don't wanna
it up loud make the whole block rattle
Boom boom- this one is blazin' hot
Boom boom- make you bust another shot the Glock

(Chorus)
From the streets below to above
To the that pumps Ra-kim Allah's blood
I swear I kick a hole in speaker and pull the plug
You is playing tug-a-war with your tongues
From the streets beneath my to the sun
I'm number one and competition is still
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 like a
Never slow down, depending on how your stereo sounds
Set it, up in the hood we go surround
Tearin' through towns, 'em into burial grounds
This is the track that made Theodore scratch
The track that the firs