Luyện nghe bài hát Yapp City

[Intro: Killah]
[church ringing]
Yeah, yeah, we want all that shit, take all that shit
up on 'im right, feel me?
Soon as he turn around, yapp this nigga
I got everything,
They ain't gotta do nothing, but just search them
go...

[Ghostface
Nobody move, get hurt
is a stick up, I want y'all to lift y'all skirts
I mean shirts, take ya off, jackets and watches
Before you put ya hands on the wall, empty ya
Fix ya face, this a robbery, nigga, the juks
Stop shaking, you making me nervous, I know that you
The is that sticking out from under ya foot?
Move, turn ya head around, nigga, you not look
Stacks, you hiding from Tone? I'll shake, rattle ya
You killed him! Nah, hit him with the of the fucking chrome
In the dark, yo, I do alone
That's the why I don't shake hands, in case I gave you a phone
That's a buck fifty, long hickey, when I strike I do it
Creep up on my victims swiftly, make it hard for you to me
Cuz if we shoot it out, cuz if I die tonight you with me
Bitch-ass nigga, eat through ya chest like fucking whiskey

Solomon Childs]
BOY! Gut him like a pig in the
Or off ya bitch body parts
BOY! a guard dog, disarm the alarm devices
ya head in vicegrips (yeah)
BOY! Or stick a hot through his heart
Get to niggaz for the right prices
BOY! Yeah, is priceless.. GET 'EM!

God]
Aiyo, I post up, the shotti
Black mags in lobbies, red dots, to detach the body
If you a boss, why ya is sloppy?
This a Staten Island burglar gang, ock, not no Ave stop me
I'm on the road, not no massive
When it come to that dough, it over like paper bag tsunamis
I take shit, and Tommy's
Niggaz passing out bombs Culpepper, so I pass behind 'em
My glove, black mask, requirements
the order to Trife Dies', and he gon' send 'em fast, they flying in
These cowards couldn't clash our den
That forty-four mag'll twist ya and the cav you flying in
We hoping out like Iron Men
It's hard to how niggaz leave with no bag supplying sense
Empty cuz my is hiring
Canine dogs with duck fast when firing

[Trife Da
Aiyo, we carry arms like a
Shorty's with the mac inside her pocket book
Blowing all of kush
Dark tints on the V so the D's can't the crooks
Just throw ya hands in the sky, try to stop the juks
down, lay on the ground, no sudden moves
Yo, then, take off his Timbs and get the out his shoes
Rip off the pockets out his shoes, sure he come out his used
I hear sirens, plus the is watching, it's time to move
If you lolly-gagging, word to mama, I'll bag 'im
Leave his frame riddled with holes, looking Gotti had 'im
Bragging, juked, in the wagon,
We a few blocks down, this kid was frozen
With so we decided to yapp 'im
I put the tool in his mouth, said "You want the action
These ain't E pills, nigga, these is fuckin
Bean, blast 'im, get his girl for his cash and
Yo, E, go stop the whip, they to witness a slashing" (BOY!)