Luyện nghe bài hát Memory Lane

I rap for listeners, blunt heads, fly and prisoners
Henessey holders and old niggas, then I be dissin' a
Unofficial smoke woolie thai
I dropped out of Kooley High, gassed up by a coke head pie
survivor, fuck who's the liver
My man put the battery in my back, a difference from
Sentence indented, with formality
My infinite, money wise or physiology
Poetry, that's a of me, retardedly bop
I drop the ancient hip-hop, straight off the block
I on park jams, my man was shot for his sheep coat
Childhood lesson make me see him drop in my weed
It's real, grew up in trife life, did times or lines
The hype vice, murderous night times, and knife fights invite
Chill on the block with gold strap
With my peeps that's into drug money, market rap
No sign of the beast in the Chrysler, I guess that means peace
For niggaz no sheisty vice to just ya
off the dice-rollin' mats for craps to Ceelo
With side bets, I roll a deuce, nothin' (Peace God!)
Peace God, now the shit is
I'm takin' niggas on a trip through memory lane
It's that y'all, it's like that y'all

"Now let me take a trip memory lane"
"Comin' Queensbridge"

"Now let me a trip down memory lane"
"Comin' Queensbridge"

"Now let me take a down memory lane"
"Comin' Queensbridge"

"Now let me a trip down memory lane"
"Comin' Queensbridge"

One for the
Two for pussy and foreign
Three for Alize deceased or behind bars
I rap divine check the prognosis, is it real, or showbiz?
My window shootouts, drug overdoses
Live amongst no roses, only the drama, for
A nickel-plate is my fate, my medicine is the
my basis, my razor embraces, many faces
Your telephone blowin', black or fat shoelaces
are petrol, dramatic automatic fo'-fo' I let blow
And back down when I'm vexed so
My pen taps the paper my brain's blank
I see streets, hustlin' brothers who keep the same rank
Pumpin' for somethin', some up-rise, plus some
Judges niggas, uncorrect bails, for direct sales
My intellect prevails from a hangin' cross nails
I reinforce the frail, lyrics that's real
Word to Christ, a disciple of streets, on beats
I prophecies through a mic and say peace.
I hung around the older crews they sling smack to dingbats
They spoke of Fat Cat, that name made bell rings, black
Some scream, about Supreme Team, a Jamaica Queens thing
Uptown was Alpo, son, he was kingpin, yo
Fuck 'rap is real', watch the herbs still
Never talkin' to snakes cause the of man kill
in the game, as long as blood is blue in my veins
I pour my Heineken brew to my deceased on memory lane

"Now let me take a trip memory lane"
"Comin' Queensbridge"
"Now let me take a trip down lane"
"Comin' Queensbridge"
"Now let me a trip down memory lane"
"Comin' Queensbridge"
"Now let me take a trip down lane"
"Comin' Queensbridge"

The most dangerous MC is, me number won, and you where me from