Luyện nghe bài hát The Big East

Who is the man with the hats, with the
Droppin' the raps with the truth to the youth bustin' the caps?
Who could it be? Is it a bird? Is it a Is it a tree?
No, it's me, capital A, S, capital E

Boomin' like thunda, like lightnin'
Welcome to my Slaughtahouse, I know it's
I'm hittin' 'em over the head with lyrical like a bottle
My foot's on the pedal, my is on the throttle

I'm turbo-boostin' Houston to Vegas
You want us to but, shit, you can't make us
There's too much to make, money to get, money to earn
My are on E and I want money to burn

I got gusto yo, I'm zeekin' 'em
Rollin' LD, Ken, Eyce, Uneek and 'em
Phat tracks, I'm freakin', to your auntie
It's written all your face, I know you want me

Scientifical, war
Rhymes that harder than trigonometry four
So open your books to page one and I'll show you how it's
It's the roughneck kid a gun

I'm laughin' ha, ha, fun to watch you weep as
You're cryin', dyin', tryin' to figure out the ass
Nigga, bigger and and badder than ever before
Hittin' with lyrical calisthenics that make me sore

And on the show of fire, supplier of the
Get the program and I'm slammin' like Shaquille
Right on head, do what I said, backin' me up is the D
You must be if you wanna mess with me

I am not the one, kid, oh, no, he ain't the one, son
The shank in my sock will chop you like a
So boom, for the hills, head for the freakin' border
I slaughter like white sharks, I'm makin' sparks

Comin' the Big Eeast, boy, we ain't slippin'
Don't you know? Don't even about it, yeah
Comin' the Big East, boy, we ain't slippin'
Don't you know? Don't even think about it,

Comin' the Big East, boy, we ain't slippin'
Don't you know? Don't even about it, yeah
Comin' from the Big East, boy, we slippin'
Don't you know? Don't even about it, yeah

As I walk through Brooklyn, Compton or
I wonder why black folks wanna stick together
We talk about and how little we get
Yet men be killin' black men for talkin' shit

Here's the one that's shit

How the hell are we supposed to war
the powers that be
When we are still our own worst
That's why I'm the Masta, I'm to tell you kid
I'll break it down simply back to the freestiddyle

I'm bashin', breakin', fry you like bacon
I don't smoke blunts, boy, you must be
I do smoke mics and MC's come wid 'em
I hit 'em and get 'em and sit 'em down, then I 'em

Out some lyrical from deep within me
I'm not John, but I'm Madden, I'll give you Moore than
I burn like tobasco, your ass, yo, beg
Miss Crabtree, Stumpy said you had a leg

So I my ax and a box full of termites
'Cuz I got your big fat in my sites
I'm not from Philly but I fly like an
My rap book is thicker a catalog from Spiegel

A I do not drive, I drive a jeep and
I should say drove one, suckers caught me sleepin'
But next time they in my car to rip the Ace off
I'll have a pitbull to rip their freakin' face off

Comin' the Big East, boy, we ain't slippin'
Don't you know? Don't even think about it,
Comin' the Big East, boy, we ain't slippin'
you know? Don't even think about it, yeah

Comin' the Big East, boy, we ain't slippin'
Don't you know? Don't even think it, yeah
Comin' the Big East, boy, we ain't slippin'
Don't you know? Don't even think about it,

On and on and on, on
On and on and on, on
Do you live in
Do you of America?