Luyện nghe bài hát Change The Game

Uhh, uhh, uhh, go
Uhh, bounce, uhh,
Uhh, bounce, uhh,
Shit relax your mind, let your be free
You're now rollin with them from the R-O-C
Sigel in the house

Uh-huh, bastard
Get your wig pushed back by the wig

Uhh, uhh, Bleek in the house

Still here, left
bust, more or less, still puff, beeatch!

Uh, uhh, uh-huh-uh-UHH, uhh
Young Hova in the house, Jigga!
sipper, six dipper, wrist glitter nigga!
Hold up
you see Jigga Man I'm rollin on dubs
Don't forget about them blades choppin it up
the motherfuckin Roc bitch, who hotter than us?
Jay-Hov, bout to change my to Jay Peso
But in the meantime, call me H. though
On the Yamaha, got the engine gunnin
Throwin it up liquor on an empty stomach
Y'all don't hear
Who that,

Nah dawg, M. Bleek comin

Who the FLUCK, want,
Bleek in South Beach out of the reach of the police
Gat on my lap (yeah) on my back (holla)
Yak in my pocket, smokin the chocolate (OO-WEE!)
Holla if you drama with

The Dynasty; Amil, Bleek, and

Sigel, Eagle dawg, who else but me?
Roc ears, Roc-Wears, bandannas and tees
Me a gun dawg, unlikely
You I keep the heat right under the wifebeat'
Three-X-T, I'm now, you can't see the pound
Got a little gut so gat sit (fuck)
I run wild, gun high, L.A.
Bang the roscoe to the sunrise, plus I dumb high
Whether shit or rock shit
Club shit or drug shit, I pop shit I got
Get Sig' any track I'ma spit the to it
Down South gon' bounce Crips walk to it
Get a ounce, get a woods, spark to it
Every dawg, every in the hood, bark to it
Get the ounce, get the woods, everybody to it
We can in here, put the choke in the air

change the game for these hoes
Who plays the game we supposed

Sigel Sigel in the

Uh-huh, sick
Get wig pushed back by the wig push-backer

Don't change the game for hoes
Who plays the game we supposed

Memph Bleek in the

Still here, never
bust, more or less, still puff, beeatch!

Don't change the game for these
Who plays the game we supposed

Hova in the house Jigga!
Crist' sipper, six dipper, glitter nigga!

I wear more bling to The Source and Train's
chains than rings, niggaz won't do a thing
I the four-four in plain, daylight I'm deranged
Spray right at your brain; by the way is Hov'
One Dillinger, one shot killin ya
It's one Roc La Familia
Sigel lock up, Brooklyn is me
Matter of fact, the East coast took it from me
Fourth album still Jay still that real shit
Volume 3 still sold more records than Smith
Can't this a comeback, I run rap, the fuck is y'all sayin?
Five million I that, and I come back, to do it again (uh-huh)
Ex-sinner, Grammy winner
repeatedly, highlights on Sportscenter
Please repeat after me, there's one rule
I not, lose!