Luyện nghe bài hát Make It Hardcore

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

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

Soul survivors, now me who can bring it liver
It's P.E., beatin the beast
In game of latecomers, fake friends and flakes
And men actin like teenagers, we raisin the stakes
What'cha about words I throw around
When I say it better know that I'm black and I'm proud
(This is I mean, an Anti-Nigger Machine)
Take a look around and see the way keepin the realest from reachin
But I bet you never it again, naw
Clear Channel never it again
It never fit into the plan of attack
They genocidal only givin us "Murder on Wax"
us terrified, music sterilized
Back the lies of the homicide and smile
life imitates what we they all
makin money off the fall, that's why I'm callin out

Because a (Nation of Millions) is the (Black)
When we (Bumrush the Show) (The Strike Back)
With mo' than the music and our message attract
(Revolverlution) and (Rebirth)'ll keep the in tact
Fuck that, bust back on criminal 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 office really and pray
God speak to him and he does what he wants
But you know they steal the vote if anybody smart
The real sin is the dilemma when the people
the death penalty but call murder for sport
For the patri-OT, ain't no questions asked
'Specially, when the babies kill each for gas
Known to blast on a menace that don't exist
Set up governments, for the rich to get richer
More money for hoods, but the hood's in pain
When the schools close they say no money remain
Still undereducated, minimum wage
Got Wal*Mart, makin new century slaves
Who's crazy? I can see, through the
See, through the media's and lies
See a nation full of still simple and blind
So we burn 'em with the sermon designed with a rhyme, we do it

D]
Whatever it takes to it hardcore! [x2]