Luyện nghe bài hát Symphony 2000

Yeah, Sermon, EPMD, yeah, check it
Redman, Man, Lady Luck, Def Jam
and Parrish Millenium Ducats
Hold me down, me down

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

Yo, I believe me
Yo, get on the mic and the symphony

Yo P, time to rock, the I got, it reigns hot
Makin' necks snap back, a slingshot
E hustle, and my way in
Then for days in, on my own with guns blazin'
Not for the fun of it, just for those who me to run it
Then leave like who done it?
duck, I do what I feel right now
When I the illest shit, cats be like, "Wow!"
Yo! I get looks I'm in the place
That's that nigga, makin' you smile with
It my fault, that my style Silkk enough to shock ya
Hit you with the fifth, block-a
If I get caught you can bet I'll trial
Be downtown swingin', M.O.P.
up

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

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

Hairlock fuckin' broads in nail shops
Hydro? Got more bags than
Two thousand Benz on my by ten picture
Papichu', crews in ICU
Battlin', hockey rules
For Murray, Doc gon' cock these tools
Rollin' down dice in Yahtzee fool
I "Just do it" like Nike, 'Bama
With ten with 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, broken and bruised, yo' jewels
Huh, bad news, barin' they through rhymin' blues
Hardcore to make them brothers act
on the steel, flip you heads over heel
Smell the daffodils from the lyric
Feelin' like the inside a Cadillac Seville
Too ill, on cuts, the of Seville, figaro
The sky is fallin',
I feel my high comin' lookout below
Aiyyo, dead that clip and spark another

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

up
I that's me

Get on the mic and the symphony

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