Luyện nghe bài hát Symphony 2000

Yeah, Erick Sermon, EPMD, yeah, it
Redman, Method Man, Luck, Def Jam
Erick and Millenium Ducats
Hold me down, me down

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

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

Yo P, time to rock, the sound I got, it 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, for those who want me to run it
Then leave them like who it?
duck, I do what I feel right now
When I spit the illest shit, be like, "Wow!"
Yo! I get when I'm in the place
That's nigga, makin' you smile with Scarface
It ain't my fault, that my style enough to shock ya
Hit you with the fifth, block-a
If I get you can bet I'll blow trial
Be downtown swingin', M.O.P.
up

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

Yo yo, did you ever think you would catch a
Yo, did you ever think you would get a
Yo, did you ever think you get robbed
At gunpoint, and thrown out the car?
It's Funk Doc, you know my Hoe
My style underground, or Ukraine po'
When it hits you, pain pumps Kool-Aid, through the and shit
Snatch the trap then I dash like did
Doc, walk, thin red lines to shock

Hairlock with broads in nail shops
Got more bags than bellhops
Two thousand Benz on my eight by ten
Papichu', slayin' in ICU
Battlin', hockey rules
For Keith Murray, Doc gon' these tools
Rollin' down dice in Yahtzee fool
I "Just do it" Nike, outta 'Bama
With ten kids with hammers, hooked to a
Yo, up

the G O D
Yo yo, get on the mic for the

Youth on the move, them dues, nuttin' to lose
Huh, street kids, broken and bruised, eyein' yo'
Huh, bad news, they souls through rhymin' blues
Hardcore to make them act fool
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 down lookout below
Aiyyo, that roach clip and spark another

Chickenhawks, playin' like Parker Brothers
I rock for the low-class, Locash
The broke-assed, even rock for trailer park
Yeah yeah, the God on your like Godzilla
Yeah yeah, she gave away my pussy I'ma her
John phenomenon, in Japan they call me Ichiban
Wu-Tang Clan, won
In the nine, I hold mine
Keep playin' it kid, you might go blind, jerkoff
Fuck them A.K.A., for now it's just
it, that's all, solo, single no more no less

up
I that's me

Get on the mic and rock the

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