Luyện nghe bài hát Road To Riches

1]
When I was five years old I to hear funk and soul
Being played out my pop's stereo
Looking at the photos, buggin on the
the fold out covers and the crazy illustrations
I got and bought my own records
By thirteen I had crates collected, huh
And that's my pride, no time for rides
Kept on the grind and I stayed
I was sort of a poser how I had my friends
Cutting up till we wrecked direct drive loader
Mom's turntable through hell
A whole lot of wicky-wicky trynna teach
The records got stuffed the parties was rough
But I still up to try to rock some cuts, what
And I was young but the bigger kids out
me five minutes on decks to freak out
The type to get it right, one night
I be rapping bout my on the cordless mic
No matter how it look, kept one foot
Between and books, and the suckers got shook
about it two decades straight
Way before Rhymesayers first wax got
The is my love and it is my business
My name is Big Slug, I'm on the to the...

2]
I used to stand on the block selling four track
make enough papes to buy more blanks
There was all kinds of hits, and drips
Sweatshirts network and guess and cred
The word was with speed, the name grew like weeds
Wasn't long till we the lead
Twin cities was and the winter was bitter
Getting bigger and bigger, started taking my picture
For the shit I spit, some rappers I knew
Got and a family, they just couldn't handle it
and rhyming, living like a roach
On the ground and broke, holding the Hulk
In a small town scene we stole like a
No time to sleep with and beef, huh
They all pussies, dicks and
Collecting stripes from little freestyle
Many mics we gripped, any we'd rip
Even with no chips take them road trips
Loyal members of the crew had my back to
G-Pool, Moonsign, and Stress
All we had was rhymes, offa the mind
For the first time in my everything felt fine
The turntables turn the DJ's mix it
I know I was on the road to the...

3]
The pop that rocks for props, he stops
And maybe hops on some guest spots
The gangster's muscle, are up in the
But if their are wack they go back to the hustle
I was the one on the opposite side of 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 road
The tapes sold, got with scapegoat, huh
That means work, in words sewer van
to J-Berg, the man with the core plan
Seeds get planted, hands get
Damn straight, gonna goin till the man breaks
And who wanna make ends meet out on my route
But never ever friendly
Stack the blocks, that fox
Rhymesayers on the Mid-West crops
Troopers, soldiers, to shoulder
Sold out the shows and the groupies to my chauffer
New tour dates, take the money, put out tapes
And call it foreplay, for the war games
Sew it up and then with the snitches
Atmosphere on the to the riches... bitches!

"The it counts steep" - [Kool G Rap]