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 stop a train
Who want some? come un-pre-pared
I'll be there, but I leave there
Better be a household
man tellin' us it ain't gon' rain
So now we in a drop-top, soakin wet
In a silk suit, tryin' not to
Hits without the net
But this'll be the year that we won't
One-Nine-Nine-Nine, Ano Domini, goes, be whatchu wanna be
Long as you know consequences are given for livin, the is
too high to jump in
Too low to dig, I might touch hell HOT!
Get a life, now they gon'
Then I might catch you a spell, look at what in the mail
A scale and some Arm and Hammer, so grid and some baby máma
Black and a pack of pampers
Stack of question no answers
Cure for cancer, cure for
Make a nigga stay on tour for days
Get home, things are wrong
I really knew it was bad all along
Before you left up to a ball of power
Thoughts at a thousands per hour
Hello, ghetto, let your breathe
there's always mo', OW!

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

Uno, dos, tres, on
Did you ever a pimp rock a microphone?
that there boi and will still stay street
Big things every time we meet
Like a track team, crack fiend, dyin to
Outkast up and down the street
Slam back, Cadillac, 'bout five deep
Seventy-five freestylin' to the beat
Cause we get krunk, drunk, at the club
have bought an ounce, but you caught the dub
Should have held back, but you throwed the
'Spose to meet your girl but you a lunch
No D U to-the G for you
Got a son on the way by the of Bamboo
Got a little baby four year, Jordan
turn my back on my kids for them
Should have hit it (hit it) it (quit it) rag (rag) top (top)
Before you read up, get a
Make a business for yourself, boy, set goals
Make a fair out of dusty coals
Record number four, but we on a
Hold up, slow up, stop,
Janet, planets, Stankonia's on ya
Movin like Floyd comin' straight to
Lock all your windows block the corridors
Pullin off a belt 'cause a whipping's in
Like a three-piece just 'fore I cut your
Yo Taco Bell, then I hit the border
Penny pap rappers to get the five
I'm a microphone fiend tryin' to alive
When you to ATL boi you betta not hide
cause the Family gon' ride, hah!

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

Bombs over Baghdad!

B-I-G,

To the

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

music, electric revival!