Luyện nghe bài hát Make It Hardcore

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

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

Soul survivors, now tell me who can bring it
It's P.E., beatin the beast
In this game of latecomers, fake and flakes
And grown men actin like teenagers, we 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 what I mean, an Machine)
a look around and see the way they 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, sterilized
Back the lies of the and smile while
life imitates what we they all
makin off the African's fall, that's why I'm callin out

Because a (Nation of Millions) is the (Black)
When we (Bumrush the Show) (The Enemy 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 action for the son of a slave
Now the used to hurt us, make somebody behave
Like this devil up in really worship and pray
God speak to him and he does what he wants
But you know they steal the if anybody gets smart
The real sin is the dilemma when the support
the penalty but call abortion murder for sport
For the fake patri-OT, no questions asked
'Specially, when the babies each other for gas
Known to blast on a menace that don't exist
Set up governments, for the rich to get richer
More for them hoods, but the hood's in pain
When the schools close they say no money remain
Still undereducated, makin wage
Got your Wal*Mart, makin new slaves
crazy? I can see, through the disguise
See, the media's propaganda and lies
See a nation full of sheep still simple and
So we burn 'em with the sermon that's with a rhyme, we do it

D]
Whatever it takes to make it hardcore!