Luyện nghe bài hát Blah Blah Blah

Get yourself together now it's hit time
known as the hit makers
Breaker breakers, party
They'll make your back crack, liver quiver
For all you cats, we're gonna put dips in your hips
More cut in your strut, more glide in stride
If you don't dig you gotta hole in your soul
If you don't dig this mess, you came to the wrong
Because singing might be and clear

Ali]
Ayo, the music 'em jump back
Fuck that, how y'all gonna come tracks, some fat, lettin Ali touch that?
Gun whack, read his
You're not serious, I got few equals and no superiors (so he is)
A veteran, an ego reckon
I it up another notch to keep the people guessin
Y'all fuckin with the ox so put your feeble session
Double teamin for the evening, so you the lessons

we go
Lookin at me like they me
bout as far as they drunk ass can throw me
Do it, somebody's to catch it, no breakage
Never that, we it basic like breakfast
So taste it, the are subtle
So tighten up to Sluggo, try to decipher the puzzle
But up though
(Fuck that, jump back)
I hold the game like Notre Dame, I your dame
(We call her back), Ali run that

Ali]
From cats lips to gods
We mind yall punk bastards and hairs
Applying our thug till y'all scared
stop till your drunk ass hits the back stairs (ohh yeah)

Fuck that, jump back, yo, that
off her nuts, wait, why she got a nut sack?
You fuckin rappers are
From the retail to the e-mail, the felt cause you need help

x 2
Y'all to watch and observe and then follow
If we open for y'all still our show
I hear the bullshit wherever I go
Like Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah

Ali] (Slug)
(Rappers to)
ah yeah they get their burned
I throw a roll of quarters and cyphers and then I get
(Yo I don't care were you son, where's your chicks?)
We'll take her out for if you want to let your lips run

Listen, I know your mission, some type of that likes to go fishin
On the mic with air tight precision, the leaders in keeping
when you ain't even keeping the rhythm that the DJ is
down little camper, I've got the answers
You should fuck dancers
You should grow a pair of and some antlers
It doesn't matter, turn it up, what the fuck you think that for?

[Brother
I write poems, rhymes, write my name in the snow
And I could use all of that to the frame of your ho
And I should but instead I'll pay the waiter and go
But if I didn't a wife, yo, your kids'd be albinos
Your is like a stick in the grass
Mean and tree hugs, I'll go on about it
I wear my toilet so that y'all can kiss my ass
your tongue out and write a love song about it

Write that shit inside of your book full of funny scribbles
The love comes in vomit, the money in dribbles
The Minnesota missiles, taught
communication, mutilation, holding pictures of sister naked

[Brother
Ha ha, You to drunk to walk the stairs
And now you're standing here choking on my pubic
me your name is if you think the brother cares

If you keep bumping your we can fucking take it there

(Brother Ali)
Yo Make a full of bump rocks stop and do the walk
(Rest those shots from a cop, and ask him your pops)
Who's you daddy, that, Jump back and act happy
(Sing my fucking chorus before I you in the face)

x 2