Luyện nghe bài hát Make It Hardcore

Ain't a bitch, I heard somebody think
Rap is dead cause people runnin out of to say
So ridiculous and so
I was almost at a for words, then I started to serve
Off the line of the mind
in 2005 droppin hammers without the time
Bring the ruckus from the to the hood
Motherfucker cause it ain't all good, now I wish they
Get yo' on, we rain on Babylon
The anti-Fox News, anti-pop, group
P and the policin the beast
Until we rise it'll never be peace, I put that on
Back with vocals, no whack shit, no glory
No gimmick tracks, just hard truth and raps
Plus that gear that keep 'em the crime
Makin sure brothers the time, that's why it ain't no smilin
See the army as snatchin us up, yeah
At yo' high school, promisin
Better the bling of the murder machine
That's why it's meaning in the words we serve and ask you to think
Who the whores that with the swords
Who the ones pimp us all sellin death for Dog
The imagery is dead-ly so the fuck?
Interscope ah better we never knowin and bringin the ruckus
Like Nas said, it's a coon parade,
niggaz goin out all day
We pullin guns on Uncle Tom to on Viacom
on, long as needed we competin keep-keepin it strong
Ain't no (Comic) in my (View) as long as they sell the out
I grip my shit and blow back out
We act out, cause you know we reppin the
Still a (Rebel) never needin a (Pause), I drawers for balls

Chuck D (singers)]
Whatever it to make it hardcore!
(Ridin with a soldier, hard soldiers in the game)
Whatever it takes to it hardcore!
(Keep the record rollin, nobody colder when we play)
it takes to make it hardcore!
(Hard truth soldier, with a soldier in the game)
Whatever it to make it hardcore!
(Keep the record rollin, can't nobody hold the we claim)

Soul survivors, now tell me who can bring it
P.E., still beatin the beast
In this game of latecomers, friends and flakes
And grown men like teenagers, we raisin the stakes
What'cha know about I throw around
When I say it better know that I'm black and I'm proud
(This is I mean, an Anti-Nigger Machine)
Take a look around and see the way keepin the realest from reachin
But I bet you never it again, naw
Clear Channel never heat it
It never fit the corporate plan of attack
They practices only givin us "Murder on Wax"
Keep us terrified, music
Back the lies of the and smile while
imitates what we make; they all
makin money off the African's fall, why I'm callin out

Because a (Nation of Millions) is the (Black)
we (Bumrush the Show) (The Enemy Strike Back)
With mo' game than the music and our attract
(Revolverlution) and (Rebirth)'ll the music in tact
Fuck that, bust back on they ways
No compassion in they for the son of a slave
Now the church used to us, make somebody behave
Like this devil up in office really and pray
Like God to him and he does what he wants
But you know they steal the vote if gets smart
The real sin is the dilemma the people support
the death but call abortion murder for sport
For the fake patri-OT, ain't no questions
'Specially, when the kill each other for gas
Known to blast on a menace that don't exist
Set up puppet governments, for the rich to get
More money for them hoods, but the in pain
When the schools cause they say no money remain
undereducated, makin minimum wage
Got your Wal*Mart, makin new slaves
Who's I can see, through the disguise
See, through the propaganda and lies
See a nation full of sheep simple and blind
So we 'em with the sermon that's designed with a rhyme, we do it

D]
Whatever it to make it hardcore! [x2]