Luyện nghe bài hát The Bizness

And, and bass up the a little bit
'Cuz I, I'm here I hear that boom bish boom, knowhatI'msayin'?

Yeah, yeah, you know the
Sense, soul with the De La
Get all them
We the sayers

Huh and the bizness, hah
Gonna do it this
it hot
Like the streets

I speak divine of God theories, no to be high
Always exhale the facts I don't inhale lie
the greater man's game, to bounce off my losses
So I can the acres, the houses, yeah, the horses

Of course, it's much greater than your Benx or Lex
The engine to my comprehension is just too
Much too complex, EFX be like Das
Making moves down South, to the chaos

And flaunt the coin 'cuz dime-getters be gazin'
They call me Van, they say my style is so amazin'
I'm fazin' those who're to have the last laughter
even when I'm gone, I'm reappearin' in the after

I haveta send respects to real money
Do not connect us with those champaign sippin' fakers
Taste the pound with spice from Chi-town
Now what that prove, you're so full, you even move

I'm the D to the O, the V to the E
And can't another cook these delicacies
I'm the P L U, the G to the One
Walk the planet earth, making money, having fun

And I'm the C to the O, M O N
I sit and think with a drink how I'm gonna win
I'm the C to the O, M O N
I sit and think a drink

Do you wanna be a MC? Or do you serve?
Do you wanna be Or do you wanna deal it?
Fabricated acrylic, I it, I'm the style molester
I do a show, get Extra P's like the Professor

In fact I get more hoes Tessa, peep game like a
Refa-ree in soul of my
Destiny, in the of three out of five
Whip anybody ass at NBA Live,

Take a dive like Lougainis with his bitch-ass
Rather be in alley, than at the click with gators
Not a hater of the players, I'm like a coach or an owner
I used to love her but now I her

At one in rhyme, I thought I lost my erection
But then I got it back with the resurrection,
rhymes, old man who called him traitor
Big Com Stradamus, niggaz, styles I

I'm the C to the O, M O N
I sit and with a drink about how I'm gonna win
And I'm the D to the O, the V to the E
And no other brother cook these delicacies

I'm the P L U, the G to the One
Walk the planet earth, making money, having fun
around the planet earth, making money, having fun
Walk around the earth, making money, having fun

I'm the most the coast of the Eastern flav'
Droppin' more knowledge than litter, on the New pave'
It's me, why, in the place to be
Certified, as superior, MC

While explore to make it hardcore
I make it for wack MC's to even step inside the door
'Cause kids is rhyming, some timing
And when we get to on the mic, they line up to see

The lyrical killing, with egos on the ceiling
My rhymes like black death rates
Over musical plates, being played as the
Kids thinking, to the Soul, you're labeled fools

Who claims to drop but for now you do the catching
I don't worry on crew you run or what section of earth
You reside, you're not a man
So I don't deem it mandatory, taking your

But I will 'cause my man says, Soul for the
You cried, "Keepin' it real", yet you should try keepin' it
understanding microphone mathematics
Which leaves the currency in temporary status

And when one shows, he posed to this one
This one will make that one none
Simple equation, zero, you shouldn't hero
If you can't stand strong like the I'm from

Now I'm the P L U, the G to the One
Walk the planet earth, making money, having fun
Yeah and I'm the C to the O, M O N
I sit and think with a drink about how I'm win

And I'm the D to the O, the V to the E
And can't another brother cook delicacies
See can't another cook these delicacies
See can't another brother cook these

Ah, that's how, that's how I'm to do my thing, huh
triple it, alright
That's how we do it, all the way from Island to Chicago
The of freestyler flow
Yeah, it's fluent and we don't need to no more

To my man Mos Def, yo, he
To my man Enola, yo, he's
And to my kin de Calhoun, yo, he's
Yo girl MP, yo, she's nonstop

And to that crew Camp Lo, yo, they
And to that nigga Pop Life, yo, he's
And to my cousin Fudd Love, you he nonstop
My brother Lucky and Pert, yo, nonstop

And to my man Joe Buck, you know he
And my man Extra P, yo, nonstop
And my man Divine, you know he nonstop
kid called Baby Paul, yo, he's nonstop

And to the Jazzyfatnastees, yo, nonstop
And my peoples Beatminerz, man they
And to my man Mr. Bug, you know nonstop
And yo, Litro, yo, nonstop

And to, my The Green, yo, you're nonstop
And to my man Paul, yo, he's nonstop
And to that man Kid Capri, yo, you
And A Tribe Quest, man, they nonstop
And don't forget the Beez, yo, they nonstop

Let me tell you a little something about Soul, 'em son
I be a piece of the East coast, so give a to
Plug Wonder, why back in the day who soaked his words in
So when I ran a in June, you didn't catch it 'til December

I'm a member of them kids the inner city
Giving you audible treats, you be aching for making
More than a pagan holiday
Not from the PJ's, yet I still got to say