Luyện nghe bài hát Symphony 2000

Yeah, Sermon, EPMD, yeah, check it
Redman, Method Man, Luck, Def Jam
Erick and Parrish Millenium
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 cream so I put it for mine
Ill cat, slick talk, slang New
To break it down to straight English, the fuck you want?
me? You punk faggot crab emcee
Get your shit in half for fuckin' around with P
Aiyyo strike two, my Brooklyn like the Zoo
Hey you, look nigga, one more strike you
Word is bi-dond, Esco, Fubu, and Phat Fi-darm
Every time I get my spit on, no doubt, I spark the
I step up and bless the track and spit a
We keeps cool, no for static, I strap tools
up

Yo, I that's me
Yo, get on the mic and the symphony

Yo P, time to rock, the sound I got, it hot
Makin' snap back, like a slingshot
E hustle, and my way in
Then tussle for days in, on my own with blazin'
Not for the fun of it, just for those who me to run it
Then leave them who done it?
Sucka duck, I do I feel right now
When I spit the illest shit, be like, "Wow!"
Yo! I get looks when I'm in the
That's that nigga, you smile with Scarface
It ain't my fault, that my style enough to shock ya
Hit you the fifth, block-a block-a
If I get caught you can bet I'll blow
Be downtown swingin', M.O.P.
up

Yo yo, Funk D.O.C.
Yo, on the mic to rock the symphony

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

Hairlock with fuckin' broads in nail
Got more bags than bellhops
Two thousand Benz on my by ten picture
Papichu', slayin' in ICU
Battlin', hockey rules
For Murray, Doc gon' cock these tools
down like dice in Yahtzee fool
I "Just do it" Nike, outta 'Bama
ten kids with hammers, hooked to a camper
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, barin' they souls through rhymin'
Hardcore to make them act fool
on the steel, flip you heads over heel
Smell the daffodils the lyric overkill
Feelin' like the inside a Cadillac Seville
Too ill, on cuts, the of Seville, figaro
The sky is fallin',
I feel my high comin' down lookout
Aiyyo, that roach clip and spark another

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

up
I believe me

Get on the mic and the symphony

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