Luyện nghe bài hát Symphony 2000

Yeah, Erick Sermon, EPMD, yeah, it
Redman, Method Man, Luck, Def Jam
Erick and Parrish Ducats
Hold me down, hold me

Yo, I grab the mic and grip it hard like my last time to shine
I want the chrome and the cream so I put it for mine
Ill cat, talk, slang New York
To break it down to straight English, the fuck you want?
Remember me? You punk crab emcee
Get your shit broke in half for fuckin' with P
Aiyyo strike two, my style like the Zoo
Hey you, look nigga, one strike you through
is bi-dond, rock Esco, Fubu, and Phat Fi-darm
Every time I get my spit on, no doubt, I spark the
I step up and the track and spit a jewel
We keeps cool, no for static, I strap tools
up

Yo, I that's me
Yo, get on the mic and the symphony

Yo P, to rock, the sound I got, it reigns hot
Makin' necks snap back, like a
E hustle, and my way in
Then tussle for in, on my own with guns blazin'
Not for the fun of it, for those who want me to run it
Then leave them like who it?
duck, I do what I feel right now
When I spit the illest shit, be like, "Wow!"
Yo! I get when I'm in the place
that nigga, makin' you smile with Scarface
It ain't my fault, that my Silkk enough to shock ya
Hit you the fifth, block-a block-a
If I get you can bet I'll blow trial
Be swingin', M.O.P. style
up

Yo yo, it's D.O.C.
Yo, you're on the mic to rock the

Yo yo, did you ever you would catch a cap?
Yo, did you ever you would get a slap?
Yo, did you ever you would get robbed
At gunpoint, and thrown out the car?
It's Funk Doc, you my name Hoe
My style underground, or Ukraine po'
When it hits you, pain pumps Kool-Aid, the vein and shit
Snatch the trap I dash like Damon did
Doc, walk, thin red to shell shock

Hairlock fuckin' broads in nail shops
Hydro? Got more than bellhops
Two thousand Benz on my by ten picture
Papichu', crews in ICU
Battlin', usin' hockey
For Keith Murray, Doc gon' these tools
down like dice in Yahtzee fool
I "Just do it" like Nike, 'Bama
With ten kids hammers, hooked to a camper
Yo, up

the G O D
Yo yo, get on the mic for the

on the move, payin' them dues, nuttin' to lose
Huh, street kids, and bruised, eyein' yo' jewels
Huh, bad news, barin' they through rhymin' blues
to make them brothers act fool
Hands on the steel, flip you over heel
Smell the from the lyric overkill
Feelin' like the mack a Cadillac Seville
Too ill, on cuts, the of Seville, figaro
The sky is fallin',
I feel my comin' down lookout below
Aiyyo, dead roach clip and spark another

Chickenhawks, playin' like Parker Brothers
I rock for the low-class, from
The broke-assed, even for trailer park trash
Yeah yeah, the God on your block like
Yeah yeah, she away my pussy I'ma kill her
John John phenomenon, in Japan they me Ichiban
Clan, numba won
In the nine, I hold mine
Keep playin' with it kid, you might go blind,
Fuck them A.K.A., for now it's Meth
That's it, that's all, solo, no more no less

up
I believe me

Get on the mic and rock the

Mrs. Stop and Roll, rocks top the told
Hot, even though is froze
Pop close range at foes, and them hoes
Leave 'em with they brains exposed, and on clothes
Y'all better change your flows, hear how Luck
Stay drunk-pissed in the S-Type, stay
When the guns spittin', duck or get
written, we in the game but ball different
Point game like Jordan, y'all play the role of
Style switchin', like ass after stickin'
Man listen, stop your cryin' and bitchin'
Like E and P's last CD, you're out of