Luyện nghe bài hát Change The Game

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

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

Uhh, uhh, Bleek in the house

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

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

Nah dawg, that's M. Bleek

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

The Amil, Bleek, Jigga 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 right under the wifebeat'
Three-X-T, I'm Lincoln now, you can't see the
Got a little gut so gat sit (fuck)
I run wild, gun high, L.A.
Bang the roscoe to the sunrise, I stay dumb high
Whether block shit or shit
Club or drug shit, I pop shit I got shit
Get any track I'ma spit the talk to it
Down South gon' bounce Crips walk to it
Get a ounce, get a woods, everybody to it
dawg, every Blood in the hood, bark to it
Get the ounce, get the woods, spark to it
We can in here, put the choke in the air

Don't the game for these hoes
Who plays the game like we

Sigel in the house

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

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

Memph in the house

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

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

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

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