Luyện nghe bài hát B.o.b. (bombs Over Baghdad)

1, 2, 1, 2, 3 yeah!
In-slum-national,
Thunder pounds when I stomp the (Woo!)
Like a million elephants with orangutans
You can't a train
Who want some? Don't un-pre-pared
I'll be there, but when I leave
Better be a name
Weather man tellin' us it gon' rain
So now we sittin' in a drop-top, wet
In a silk suit, not to sweat
Hits somersaults the net
But this'll be the year we won't forget
One-Nine-Nine-Nine, Ano Domini, goes, be whatchu wanna be
Long as you know consequences are for livin, the fence is
too to jump in jail
Too low to dig, I might touch hell HOT!
Get a life, now they gon'
Then I might catch you a spell, at what came in the mail
A scale and some Arm and Hammer, so grow grid and some baby
Black and a pack of pampers
Stack of question no answers
for cancer, cure for AIDS
Make a nigga wanna on tour for days
Get home, things are wrong
When I knew it was bad all along
Before you left adds up to a ball of
at a thousands miles per hour
Hello, ghetto, let your brain
there's always mo', OW!

Don't pull the thang out, unless you plan to
over Baghdad!
Yeah! Ha ha yeah!
Don't bang unless you plan to hit something
Bombs Baghdad!
Yeah!
Don't the thang out, unless you plan to bang
over Baghdad!
Yeah! Ha ha yeah!
Don't even bang unless you plan to hit
Bombs Baghdad!
Yeah!

Uno, dos, tres, on
Did you think a pimp rock a microphone?
Like that there boi and will still street
Big things happen every we meet
a track team, crack fiend, dyin to geek
Outkast up and down the street
Slam back, Cadillac, 'bout nigga deep
Seventy-five emcee's freestylin' to the
Cause we get krunk, drunk, at the club
Should have bought an ounce, but you the dub
Should have held back, but you throwed the
to meet your girl but you packed a lunch
No D to-the U G for you
Got a son on the way by the name of
Got a little baby girl year, Jordan
Never turn my back on my kids for
Should have hit it (hit it) it (quit it) rag (rag) top (top)
you read up, get a laptop
Make a business for yourself, boy, set goals
Make a fair out of dusty coals
number four, but we on a roll
Hold up, up, stop, control
Janet, planets, Stankonia's on ya
Movin like Floyd comin' to Florida
Lock all your then block the corridors
Pullin off a 'cause a whipping's in order
Like a three-piece just 'fore I cut daughter
Yo quiero Bell, then I hit the border
Penny pap tryin' to get the five
I'm a microphone fiend tryin' to alive
When you come to ATL boi you not hide
cause the Dungeon gon' ride, hah!

Don't pull the thang out, you plan to bang
over Baghdad!
Yeah! Ha ha yeah!
Don't bang unless you plan to hit something
over Baghdad!
Yeah!
Don't pull the thang out, unless you to bang
Bombs Baghdad!
Yeah! Ha ha yeah!
Don't even unless you plan to hit something
Bombs Baghdad!
Yeah!

over Baghdad! Yeah

B-I-G,

To the

Bob head, rag top
(1, 2, 1, 2, 3, 4) (Gimme some)

Po-wer music, revival!