Luyện nghe bài hát Body Bagz

Cory
Get Ready. Get Steady.
Spaghetti Shredded.
Heavy debted. Credit
For you get jelly-spread.
The let me let it.
go Lindsey at it.
addicts with envy.
n Richie n Britney's habit.
Cass, a Lotta rappers militant, n be itchin' addicts .
puttin but wood on da shelves like a kitchen cabinet.
cause if i da static. i peel the matic. they'll getta static.
the cal. go sporadic. now its not so radical
to no compatible establishment.
U broke-nose, for tryin' to jones my Ozone.
behold
im feared as an Afghani terrorist
im poppa's tool im trying to bring yall Hailly Marias
Take a at reading braille, stare at dis.
u dont M.O.B. . . u nuthin but a queer therapist.
Nigga my M.O.B. get that money. no T. no penalty.
when no C. dinero B. That all i see mentally.
i shift from manual to automatic physically.
cant infiltrate my men in street.
we in Da - you industry.
LARCENY, militia Nigga wit us.
if not, Cass put em on sum nother chart from us.
Bagz!

I got my hand on my cock
Cause man, I copped a gun so big it could probably hancock
I'm not a rat, me? Talkin' to the damn
It's like Lewis Fericon hamhocks
I'm a gorilla, but I'm slicker a damn fox
Been since pre-school, playin' in the sandbox
I'm a hustla, I used to hand-to-hand, 'n I could stand on the block sellin' gram after
And no I'm not from Japan, na', but it just look like it's in me, 'cause I got the hazy with me
I been to jail, I got a couple hundred up in me
But I still keep the HK, keep the razor me
I ball hard, so other ballers is to stick me
'Cause if I get fouled I'll probably shoot the
And you can be the next dude I shoot to death
I wild-out, but if I foul out, I'll the ref
I'm happy I'm in the coupe, but the roof depressed
'Cause I put them down in the trunk, where I put them now
I got dough, ever O put a pound in my hand
I been the man, you put the crown on my dome
I'm on the phone, havin' conference calls, with
Yeah, look I accomplished, y'all
And I ain't tryin' to take your life, I got a conscience,
Plus the law you up north, like a compass, y'all
I was livin' out with youngers y'all
I sign the rough riders with a flow that was y'all
I can't lie, you could ask DMY
You could ask too, SP and kiss too
You could ask DMX, the pitt too
And they'll let you know all the battles I had to get
You ask track and sheep, about how I had to eat
of motherfuckers up, yup, I had the streets
But no money in battlin', and I had to eat
I could spit reckless, but I had to a hit record
And now I make hit record after hit
And I chicks get naked
this check it,
I just lick my lips on LL shit,
And then I make 'em laugh, on David Chappelle shit,
And be on some let's go to the hotel shit,
I Give 'em hard dick on just got out of jail shit
The innocent man, in the can
But I never made a statement, never been on the
And I'm independant now, but that been in the
'Cause all about the benjamins man,
talk,
And you dudes walk in my timbalands man,
And my don't fit you, the streets don't fuck with you
I sip champagne and I throw shots,
And I smoke pot the color of a Apple box,
I rap but I crack rock,
And had the jumpin' like the frog on the honey smacks box,
You dig
Bagz!