Luyện nghe bài hát Straight From Queens

Rippin' the
And blowin the apart.
MC's ain't got no heart,
They need to quit before start.
and breakin' 'em down.
at least.
'em up, up at least.
'em in a pilek.
Now a stomp and a smile, G.


Jason.
When I be
rappers,
style,
down.
Their petty bassin',
All in my face.
You got the mic,
But I gotta off it.
You got my rhyme,
Now it.
Brother, the tip and forfeit.
nada,
not a,
I'm hotter.
You're a trotter.

Switch the 'e' an 'a,'
And karata.
When I on
I'm it up
Just a madman.
I fly head,
Chop off legs,
And your head stand.
Tax and wreckin' chumps
All of I rub out.
You the time.
What's on mind?
You I never go out.
I be bouts.
Ya
Your is full of bums, see.
You never was too
the fork in you,
You're G.

The rip
With the
Of all the rappers.
Toe to toe.
I go
I
The will smack ya.
ya full a lead,
Just a nine.
Kickin' it off in the time.
Takin' a
And mine.
way behind.
Ya a title,
And all the
your title for ya.
Hopin',
And prayin',
And wishin',
That I rap,
But I rip all a
In half.
Look at me
Ya style.
Ya it.
Mmm, I see goodies.
the mic and hoodie.
Now I'll it.
Any,
The every,
The his,
The hers,
Of those,
Of theirs,
Of them,
I see title
your neck,
Just loose.
I your gem.
I'm it off your neck
With every line I select,
And it up and cuttin'.
While I'm
disrespect.
off.
Yeah,
Squeezin' like a grip,
ya off the stage,
the crowd,
So a nice trip.

I'm control.
I
The as good as gold.
Fly, so heads.
I built my
pole.
it out,
And gettin'
Is a understatement.
How to rap a flat,
Puttin' his
the pavement.
'em up,
Just a flame thrower.
'em
With the flower.
'em out in pairs,
the man, Noah.
'em up
Just a trophy,
For the to see.
You really superb,
You see.
goin' out,
Like a to me.
Takin' your
Boo-hoo, baby.
drop.
style.
Breakin' it
there's dust,
And vacuum up the pile.
Showin',
And provin',
And groovin',
And makin a
On the mic.
Slappin' a
In his mouth,
like
A dirty tyke.
of the murderous
Maniac,
Mad style,
man.
the mic
Since I was
A child.
and props;
More props than 2.
pen and pad
I to you,
And on the too.
with energy,
lyrically,
my empire.
You don't to test me.

of funkadelic.
Every album's a relic.
the line,
on mine,
But ya never to tell it.
it off quick,
the script.
in the bushes,
Then around the jam.
I'm out pounds
And mushes.
makin' a face.
You want to test my slick
best to rock a break beat,
Or somethin' you can to.
if every rapper
In the world was jams,
As as I set this off
Their mics are
Out hands.
the junky's world
With the
Of single.
Back in the
I ya,
I a beat
To ya jingle.

the sword,
And off the mic cord.
Rappers are
All over the
In state I toured.
I'm the truth,
living god
That's right ya eyes.
And be rollin'
In and sneakers,
You can the suit and ties.
No out.
Bet ya never dies.
Gimme microphone,
rip it up
sunrise.