Luyện nghe bài hát Symphony 2000

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

Yo, I grab the mic and grip it hard it's my last time to shine
I want the chrome and the cream so I put it down for
Ill cat, slick talk, New York
To break it down to straight English, what the you want?
Remember me? You faggot crab emcee
Get your shit broke in for fuckin' around with P
strike two, my style Brooklyn 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 spit on, no doubt, I spark the
I step up and bless the track and spit a
We keeps cool, no need for static, I strap
up

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

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

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

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

Hairlock with fuckin' broads in shops
Hydro? Got more bags bellhops
Two thousand Benz on my by ten picture
Papichu', slayin' in ICU
Battlin', usin' hockey
For Keith Murray, Doc gon' cock these
Rollin' like dice in Yahtzee fool
I "Just do it" Nike, outta 'Bama
With ten kids 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, 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 over heel
Smell the from the lyric overkill
Feelin' the mack inside a Cadillac Seville
Too ill, on cuts, the of Seville, figaro
The sky is fallin',
I my high comin' down lookout below
Aiyyo, dead roach clip and spark another

Chickenhawks, theyselves like Parker Brothers
I rock for the low-class, Locash
The broke-assed, rock for trailer park trash
Yeah yeah, the God on your block like
Yeah yeah, she gave away my pussy I'ma her
John John phenomenon, in Japan they call me
Clan, numba won
In the whole nine, I mine
Keep playin' it kid, you might go blind, jerkoff
Fuck A.K.A., for now it's just Meth
That's it, that's all, solo, single no no less

up
I that's me

Get on the mic and rock the

Mrs. Drop and Roll, rocks top the told
Hot, even though is froze
Pop close range at foes, and them hoes
Leave 'em with they brains exposed, and on clothes
better change your flows, hear how Luck spittin'?
Stay in the S-Type, stay whippin'
When the guns spittin', 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 your and your bitchin'
Like E and P's last CD, out of business