Luyện nghe bài hát Remember Me

Remember me? ("There executions")
Remember me? ("I no remorse")
me? ("I'm high, power!")
Remember me? ("I drop like Hiroshima")

For this, why it's the X, you
'Cause I grab the mic and get down, syndrome
Hide in Rome and to the masses, without
qualifies me for the term "universal"
Without no rehearsal, colleague is controversial
I'm not, the one you want to contest, see
'Cause I'll hit your ass like the train did bitch
That got "Banned TV"
get up, watch you're whole head split up
Loco is the motion, comin' through
tips in the lead, the .45 through

Remember me? ("Throw ya in the air!")
me? ("Slam! Slam!")
Remember me? ("Nigga back da up!")
me? ("Chka-chka-Onyx!")

Niggas "no" for an answer, ghetto no
Yeah, I've been no but it's more like
"No, no, no!!"
a bitch, yeah it'll fuck you if you let her
Better better than better to be a competitor
This ved is a head, the shit is all redder, you and deader
I extended the cheddars and credda
Instead of vendetta, a beretta from ghetto to gutter
Evidence? Nope! Never a shredda
I got the of every rapper in me, love me and hate me
My got raped by the industry and made me
I'm the nigga ever, I told you
I get more pussy than them bitches total
Want beef, nigga? Psh better dead shit
My name be "Can't-Believe-That-Nigga-Said-That-Shit"
Probably say "he ain't a killa", but I'm myself
def, fuck bitches raw, on the kitchen floor
So think what I'm a do to you, have to you
Got in my hood who'd do that shit for a bullet too
What you to do, cocksuckers? We're glockbusters
'Til the cops cuff us, start ruckus and drop blockbusters
the clock hustlers, you cannot touch us
I'm gettin' wires niggas me dead
Wantin' my head, you think it could be somethin' I

me? ("I just don't give a fuck!")
Remember me? ("Yeah, you too!")
Remember me? ("I'm low and I'm shifty!")
me? ("I'm shady!")

When I go out, I'm a go out
I mean when I die, I mean when I go out to the club, stupid
I'm to clean up my fuckin' image,
So I the fuckin' critics
I say "fuckin'" for six minutes
(Six minutes, Shady, you're on)
My baby's mom, bitch made me an angry
So I made me a song, killed her and put on
I may be wrong, I thinkin' these crazy thoughts
In my cranium, but I'm stuck with a mom
(Is she really on as much dope as you say on?)
Came home, and somebody must've in the back window
And two loaded machine guns and both of my trench coats
Sick sick of picnic scenes, two kids, sixteen
With M-16's with ten clips
And them shits through six kids each
And Slim gets blamed in Bill Clintin's speech to fix these
Fuck that! Psh you fagots can vanish to ash
And in hell with a can of gas, and a match
Aftermath, Dre, the gat, show 'em where it's at
(Shot)
(What the fuck you at, nigga?)
you remember me?
me?
me?!
me?!