Luyện nghe bài hát Symphony 2000

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

Yo, I grab the mic and grip it hard like it's my last time to
I want the chrome and the cream so I put it for mine
Ill cat, talk, slang New York
To break it to straight English, what the fuck you want?
Remember me? You punk crab emcee
Get your shit broke in half for fuckin' around P
Aiyyo two, my style Brooklyn like the Zoo
Hey you, look nigga, one more you through
Word is bi-dond, rock Esco, Fubu, and Phat
Every I get my spit on, no doubt, I spark the gridiron
I step up and bless the track and a jewel
We keeps cool, no for static, I strap tools
up

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

Yo P, time to rock, the I got, it reigns hot
Makin' necks snap back, like a
E hustle, and my way in
Then tussle for days in, on my own with guns
Not for the fun of it, just for those who me to run it
Then leave them who done it?
Sucka duck, I do what I right now
When I the illest shit, cats be like, "Wow!"
Yo! I get looks I'm in the place
That's that nigga, makin' you smile 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 trial
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 think 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 dirty underground, or Ukraine po'
When it hits you, pain pumps Kool-Aid, through the and shit
the trap then I dash like Damon did
Doc, walk, thin red lines to shell

Hairlock with fuckin' broads in shops
Hydro? Got bags than bellhops
Two Benz on my eight by ten picture
Papichu', slayin' in ICU
Battlin', usin' hockey
For Keith Murray, Doc gon' cock these
Rollin' down like dice in Yahtzee
I "Just do it" Nike, outta 'Bama
With ten with hammers, hooked to a camper
Yo, up

the G O D
Yo yo, get on the mic for the

Youth on the move, payin' them dues, nuttin' to
Huh, kids, broken and bruised, eyein' yo' jewels
Huh, bad news, barin' souls through rhymin' blues
Hardcore to make them brothers act
Hands on the steel, flip you heads over
Smell the daffodils from the overkill
like the mack inside a Cadillac Seville
Too ill, on cuts, the of Seville, figaro
The sky is fallin',
I feel my high comin' lookout below
Aiyyo, dead roach clip and spark another

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

up
I that's me

Get on the mic and the symphony

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