Luyện nghe bài hát Blah Blah Blah

Get yourself now because it's hit time
Your as the hit makers
Breaker breakers, makers
They'll make your back crack, your 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 that you gotta hole in soul
If you don't dig mess, you came to the wrong address
Because might be loud and clear

Ali]
Ayo, the music made 'em jump
Fuck that, how y'all gonna tracks, some fat, without lettin Ali touch that?
Gun whack, his lips
You're not serious, I got few equals and no superiors (so he is)
A veteran, an ego reckon
I turn it up another notch to the people guessin
Y'all ain't fuckin with the ox so put your feeble
Double teamin for the evening, so you heed the

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

Ali]
From cats lips to gods
We mind yall punk bastards and hairs
our thug tactics till y'all scared
Don't stop till your drunk ass the back stairs (ohh yeah)

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

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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
Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah

[Brother (Slug)
(Rappers to)
ah yeah they get their shits
I throw a roll of quarters and cyphers and I get learned
(Yo I don't care were you represent son, your chicks?)
We'll take her out for breakfast if you to let your lips run

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

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

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

[Brother
Ha ha, You to to walk down the stairs
And now standing here choking on my pubic hairs
Telling me name is if you think the brother cares

If you bumping your gums we can fucking take it there

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

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