Luyện nghe bài hát Symphony 2000

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

Yo, I grab the mic and grip it hard like my last time to shine
I want the chrome and the so I put it down for mine
Ill cat, slick talk, 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 around with P
Aiyyo strike two, my style like the Zoo
Hey you, nigga, one more strike you through
Word is bi-dond, rock Esco, Fubu, and Phat
Every time I get my on, no doubt, I spark the gridiron
I up and bless the track and spit a jewel
We keeps cool, no need for static, I tools
up

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

Yo P, to rock, the sound I got, it reigns hot
necks snap back, like a slingshot
E hustle, and my way in
Then tussle for 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 looks I'm in the place
That's that nigga, makin' you smile with
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 swingin', M.O.P. style
up

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

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

Hairlock fuckin' broads in nail shops
Hydro? Got more bags bellhops
Two thousand on my eight by ten picture
Papichu', slayin' in ICU
Battlin', usin' hockey
For Murray, Doc gon' cock these tools
Rollin' down dice in Yahtzee fool
I "Just do it" like Nike, '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, payin' them dues, nuttin' to
Huh, street kids, and bruised, eyein' yo' jewels
Huh, bad news, barin' they souls through blues
to make them brothers act fool
Hands on the steel, flip you heads over
Smell the from the lyric overkill
Feelin' the mack inside a Cadillac Seville
Too ill, on cuts, the Barber of Seville,
The sky is fallin',
I my high comin' down lookout below
Aiyyo, that roach clip and spark another

Chickenhawks, playin' theyselves Parker Brothers
I rock for the low-class, Locash
The broke-assed, even rock for trailer park
yeah, the God on your block 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 whole nine, I hold
Keep playin' with it kid, you go blind, jerkoff
Fuck them A.K.A., for now it's Meth
That's it, that's all, solo, single no more no

up
I believe me

Get on the mic and the symphony

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