Luyện nghe bài hát Road To Riches

1]
When I was five years old I used to hear and soul
Being played out my pop's hi-fi
Looking at the photos, on the names
the fold out covers and the crazy illustrations
I got older and my own records
By thirteen I had three collected, huh
And my pride, no time for white rides
Kept on the grind and I inside
I was sort of a how I had my friends over
up till we wrecked that direct drive loader
Mom's turntable went hell
A whole lot of wicky-wicky trynna myself
The records got stuffed cause the was rough
But I still up to try to rock some cuts, what
And I was young but the bigger reached out
Give me minutes on decks to freak out
The type to get it right, maybe one
I be rapping bout my on the cordless mic
No matter how it look, kept one foot
Between records and books, and the got shook
Dreamed about it two straight
Way before Rhymesayers wax got made
The music is my and it is my business
My is Big Slug, I'm on the road to the...

2]
I to stand on the block selling four track tapes
Trynna make enough to buy more blanks
There was all kinds of hits, and drips
Sweatshirts running network and and cred
The word was spread with speed, the name like weeds
Wasn't till we took the lead
Twin cities was little and the was bitter
bigger and bigger, they started taking my picture
For the shit I spit, some I knew quit
Got and a family, they just couldn't handle it
Lice and rhyming, like a roach
On the and broke, holding onto the Hulk
In a small town scene we stole like a
No to sleep with politics and beef, huh
They all pussies, and assholes
Collecting stripes from freestyle battles
Many we gripped, any stage we'd rip
Even with no chips we'd take them road
Loyal members of the crew had my back to
G-Pool, Moonsign, myself and
All we had was rhymes, coming offa the
For the first time in my life everything felt
The turntables while the DJ's mix it
I didn't know I was on the to the...

3]
The pop that rocks for props, he eventually
And hops on some desktop guest spots
The gangster's muscle, are up in the
But if their raps are wack go back to the hustle
I was the one on the opposite of smoking a gun
Taught me how to and how to run
Make or break it, the hater's can't say
awake late night in Ant's basement
Take notes, spray painted the paved
The tapes sold, got lucky scapegoat, huh
That means work, in other sewer van
Peace to J-Berg, the man with the plan
get planted, hands get handshakes
Damn straight, gonna keep goin the man breaks
And MC's who wanna ends meet out on my route
But ever keep friendly
Stack the blocks, that fox
Rhymesayers on the Mid-West crops
Troopers, soldiers, to shoulder
Sold out the shows and give the groupies to my
New dates, take the money, put out more tapes
And call it foreplay, ready for the war
Sew it up and then FUCK with the
Atmosphere on the to the riches... bitches!

"The money it counts steep" - [Kool G