Luyện nghe bài hát Word On The Sreet

I the set...
They me, like, "Where he go?" ...To bed.
still off the heezy, yo! The kid spit, weezy. But, easy? No.
I make it, hard to me, graffiti flow...

East to West, the world see me blow. Syndicated, like your favorite T.V. show. I get respect, and get a check, from cd's sold. The President, Record Exec', from C.E.O.

Ra's still killin' 'em. Block's; still fillin' 'em. Knots; still peelin' 'em. (HOT!) Still reelin' 'em. Real as them. Drop! Sell millions. Seventh Seal, it come. Ra's chillin', top buildin' spot's still feelin' him.

Papi in Puerto Rico, UK's King Harold. The Bronx; I'm Carlito, the block; I'm Raw Ghetto. Jamaica; I'm Ja', and Rio' know my M.O. Japan; It's, (Kwa gua la Kimo.) - (Japanese??)

It matter where you at, O.T. or on the same block I rep'.
(You know!) All from the same Struggle. (I know!)
You understand my lingo. So, no matter, wherever, I you got my back. (Yes.) And if it ever pop off, I'm gone' react! You see, the word on the streets...
.. Is the world got our back, so we NEED... To send LOVE we go!

When I'm flowin', my master is demographic, it's growin'. I check the status, then let 'em have it. The chosen; Rakim is classic, time, so far past it. Masses won't grasp it, till I'm in the casket.

I'm zonin'...
I've seen it all, like, "Casualties of War" before it happened. Perhaps, my pen is magic. Unloadin'. Mic chokin', smoke, keep clappin', it's broken. Pop open, like emptyin' a ratchet.

Black-Berry Benzino. Guts is red. and Cherry Timb's, and feet, so stuffed with bread. The lee-low. Seein' ya group, like I'm duckin' the Fed's. Ra's still on fire, like I puff with dreads.

"Studio-Gangster-Talk-Tough" is dead. My 16's a slug stuck in your head... Enough said. is for fans, and neighborhood's, celeb's. Baby girl, let's hit the club. Hurry up, get dressed. So, let's go!

It matter where you at, O.T. or on the same block I rep'.
(You know!) All from the same Struggle. (I know!)
You my lingo. So, no matter, wherever, I know you got my back. (Yes.) And if it ever pop off, I'm gone' react! You see, the word on the streets...
.. Is the world got our back, so we NEED... To send LOVE we go!

It's Hip-Hop, when DJ's throw it on in the club, and watch... Mami's drop and warmin' it up. They get hot. Bartender puts some more in the cup. Thugs hear it outside, start stormin' the club.

It Don't Stop! Once it's on, we enjoyin' the buzz. Inhale the song in your lungs, it's as as a blunt, or raw rocks off of the block. The audience bump, till the cops run in the spot, like I'm wanted for drugs.

I with Mami's, with Bacardi and they zombies.
Sophisticated hotties, that ride me on Ducatis.
Fit in they Armani's, mix Karate with Pilates.
Yeah, they with Papi put tsunami's in their punanys.

The God stay fly, it hard to aim high. Like I'm armed with a launcher, or a Don on they grind. Ra' displays rhymes, it's the crime, dark or day time. Like a mobster sprays 9's, I'm a monster, ain't I?

It don't matter where you at, O.T. or on the block I rep'.
(You know!) All come from the Struggle. (I know!)
You understand my lingo. So, no matter, wherever, I know you got my back. (Yes.) And if it pop off, I'm gone' react! You see, the word on the streets...
.. Is the got our back, so we NEED... To send LOVE wherever we go!

New City.
Detroit.
ATL.
The Westcoast.
The Midwest...
.. seas.

R. A. K. I. M.