Luyện nghe bài hát Remember Me

Remember me? ("There executions")
me? ("I have 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, like
Hide in Rome and to the masses, without
qualifies me for the term "universal"
Without no rehearsal, words is controversial
Like I'm not, the one you to contest, see
I'll hit your ass like the train did that bitch
That got "Banned TV"
Heavyweight get up, watch you're head split up
Loco is the motion, weed through
Hollow tips in the lead, the .45

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

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

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

I go out, I'm a go out shootin'
I don't mean when I die, I mean I go out to the club, stupid
I'm tryin' to clean up my image,
So I promised the critics
I wouldn't say "fuckin'" for six
(Six minutes, Shady, you're on)
My baby's mom, bitch me an angry blond
So I made me a song, killed her and put on
I may be wrong, I keep thinkin' these thoughts
In my cranium, but I'm stuck a crazy mom
(Is she on as much dope as you say she's on?)
Came home, and somebody must've in the back window
And stole two machine guns and both of my trench coats
Sick sick dreams of picnic scenes, two kids,
With with ten clips each
And them shits reach through six kids
And Slim gets blamed in Bill Clintin's to fix these streets?
Fuck that! Psh you fagots can to volcanic ash
And re-appear in with a can of gas, and a match
Aftermath, Dre, grab the gat, show 'em where at
(Shot)
(What the fuck you at, nigga?)
Don't you me?
me?
me?!
me?!