Luyện nghe bài hát Change The Game

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

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

Uhh, uhh, Memph Bleek in the

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

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

Nah dawg, that's M. comin

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

The Dynasty; Amil, Bleek, and

Sigel, Eagle dawg, who else but me?
Roc ears, Roc-Wears, and white tees
Me a gun dawg, unlikely
You know I keep the heat right under the
Three-X-T, I'm Lincoln now, you can't see the
Got a gut so gat sit tucked (fuck)
I run wild, gun high, L.A.
Bang the to the sunrise, plus I stay dumb high
Whether block shit or 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 gon' walk to it
Get a ounce, get a woods, spark to it
Every dawg, Blood 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

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

Sigel in the house

Uh-huh, bastard
Get your wig pushed by the wig push-backer

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

Memph Bleek in the

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

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

Young Hova in the Jigga!
sipper, six dipper, wrist glitter nigga!

I wear more bling to The Source and Train's
chains than rings, niggaz won't do a thing
I bangs the four-four in plain, I'm deranged
Spray at your brain; by the way this is Hov'
One Dillinger, one shot killin ya
It's only one Roc La
lock Philly up, Brooklyn is me
Matter of fact, the East fuck took it from me
Fourth album still Jay still that real shit
Volume 3 still sold more than Will Smith
call 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, award winner
Ballin repeatedly, on Sportscenter
Please repeat after me, only one rule
I not, lose!