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 back crack, your liver quiver
For all you cats, we're gonna put more dips in your
cut in your strut, more glide in your stride
If you don't dig that you gotta in your soul
If you don't dig this mess, you to the wrong address
Because singing might be loud and

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

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

Ali]
From cats lips to ears
We mind punk bastards and cross hairs
Applying our thug tactics till scared
Don't stop till your drunk ass hits the stairs (ohh yeah)

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

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

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

Listen, I know mission, some type of magician that 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 camper, I've got the answers
You should fuck exotic
You should grow a pair of and some antlers
It matter, turn it up, what the fuck you think that amp's for?

[Brother
I write poems, write rhymes, write my name in the
And I could use all of that to the frame of your ho
And I but instead I'll just pay the waiter and go
But if I have a wife, yo, your kids'd be albinos
Your respect is like a 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 inside of your book full of funny scribbles
The love comes in vomit, the comes in dribbles
The Minnesota missiles, self
communication, mutilation, holding pictures of sister naked

Ali]
Ha ha, You to drunk to walk down the
And now standing here choking on my pubic hairs
Telling me your name is if you the brother cares

If you keep your gums we can fucking take it there

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

x 2