Luyện nghe bài hát Remember Me

me? ("There been executions")
Remember me? ("I no remorse")
me? ("I'm high, power!")
Remember me? ("I drop bombs Hiroshima")

For this, why it's the X, you
'Cause I grab the mic and get down, like
in Rome and to the masses, without boundaries
Which qualifies me for the "universal"
no rehearsal, colleague 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"
get up, watch you're whole head split up
Loco is the motion, weed through
tips in the lead, the .45 through

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

Niggas "no" for an answer, ghetto no
Yeah, I've told no but it's more like
"No, no, no!!"
a bitch, yeah it'll fuck you if you let her
Better better than better to be a competitor
This ved is a head, the shit is all redder, you and deader
I better extended the and credda
Instead of vendetta, a mellow beretta from to gutter
Evidence? Nope! Never leave a
I got the soul of every rapper in me, me and hate me
My moms got by the industry and made me
I'm the illest ever, I told you
I get more pussy than them bitches total
Want beef, nigga? Psh better dead that
My should be "Can't-Believe-That-Nigga-Said-That-Shit"
Probably say "he ain't a killa", but I'm killin'
Smoke def, fuck bitches raw, on the floor
So think what I'm a do to you, done to you
Got niggas in my hood do that 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 clock hustlers, you touch us
I'm gettin' wires niggas wantin' me
Wantin' my head, you think it could be somethin' I

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

When I go out, I'm a go out
I mean when I die, I mean when I go out to the club, stupid
I'm to clean up my fuckin' image,
So I the fuckin' critics
I wouldn't say "fuckin'" for six
(Six minutes, Shady, you're on)
My baby's mom, made 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 with a mom
(Is she really on as much dope as you say on?)
Came home, and somebody must've broke in the back
And stole two loaded machine guns and both of my trench
Sick dreams of picnic scenes, two kids, sixteen
M-16's with ten clips each
And them shits through six kids each
And Slim gets blamed in Bill Clintin's to fix these streets?
Fuck that! Psh you fagots can vanish to ash
And re-appear in hell a can of gas, and a match
Aftermath, Dre, the gat, show 'em where it's at
(Shot)
(What the fuck you at, nigga?)
Don't you me?
me?
me?!
me?!