Luyện nghe bài hát Remember Me

Remember me? ("There 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
Hide in Rome and to the masses, boundaries
Which qualifies me for the "universal"
Without no rehearsal, colleague words is
I'm not, the one you want to contest, see
'Cause I'll hit your ass like the did that bitch
got "Banned From TV"
Heavyweight get up, watch you're whole split up
Loco is the motion, comin' 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 catchin' "no" for an answer, no
Yeah, I've been told no but it's more
"No, no, no!!"
Life's a bitch, yeah fuck you if you let her
Better come better than better to be a
This ved is a head, the shit is all redder, you and deader
I better the cheddars and credda
of vendetta, a mellow beretta from ghetto to gutter
Evidence? Nope! leave a shredda
I got the soul of every rapper in me, me and hate me
My moms got raped by the and made me
I'm the illest nigga ever, I you
I get more pussy than them dike bitches
Want beef, nigga? Psh better dead that
My name be "Can't-Believe-That-Nigga-Said-That-Shit"
Probably say "he ain't a killa", but I'm myself
Smoke def, fuck bitches raw, on the kitchen
So think I'm a do to you, have done to you
Got niggas in my who'd 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' niggas wantin' me dead
Wantin' my head, you it could be somethin' I said?

Remember me? ("I don't give 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 don't mean I die, I mean when I go out to the club, stupid
I'm to clean up my fuckin' image,
So I promised the critics
I say "fuckin'" for six minutes
(Six minutes, Shady, you're on)
My mom, bitch 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 with a crazy mom
(Is she really on as much dope as you say on?)
home, and somebody must've broke in the back window
And two loaded machine guns and both of my trench coats
Sick sick dreams of scenes, two kids, sixteen
With with ten clips each
And them shits through six kids each
And Slim gets in Bill Clintin's speech to fix these streets?
that! Psh you fagots can vanish to volcanic ash
And re-appear in with a can of gas, and a match
Aftermath, Dre, grab the gat, show 'em where at
(Shot)
(What the you starin' at, nigga?)
Don't you me?
me?
me?!
me?!