Luyện nghe bài hát Family Reunion

[Intro - Killa BH -
Uh oh!
It's that again
It's been too
It's reunion
We got to school y'all to the game (IS THIS YOU WANT?)
You know what let's to 'em (HUH?)
Let's go (IS THIS YOU WANT?)

[Joe Budden - talking Killa BH]
Uh
Mic check, mic
Check, one two, one two

[DJ On Point -
Y'all already what time it is (y'all already know what time it is)
Family (family reunion)
Ransom (Ransom), Hitchcock (Hitchcock), Fab (Fab), go

[Joe - talking behind DJ On Point]
The is out niggaz, uh
Get 'em boy

1 - Ransom]
Ain't tryin to rap or play me
I'll be at they crib with a couple and a black old AV
Black gonna pay me, get the smack off Baisley
Cause I'm touchin more diesel than old lady
Boy, you did it, I it, I get it, I punish
The shit that I come with'll separate a rib from a
I'm the boss, when I spit it, you it
fact, I'm a Viking, I need a whole village to plumage
Yeah, the nigga is here, the is scared
You got the throne? Then I I need to sit in your chair
We really get physical here
And the sky's the nigga, I put your whole clique in the air
Baby, so quit playin, the clips spray 'em
And have his MIA like Saban
His whole shit caved in, my whole clique
Hard bodied nigga, my whole shit
You can't if you dead in the ground
In the woods, where your be found
And it's good that you gettin it now, in the precinct it now
I can't fuck with the of you clowns, faggot

2 - Hitchcock]
High in the before the storm
Lincoln Park, the
Slang rock on the block that the water on
I be more than gone, run and get your form
time I record a song, gon' put my daughter on
Cause she realer most niggaz
I tote triggers, for you broke niggaz and gold diggers no figures
That why I the heater, for all you non-believers
I'm on ass like white on Rice, I'm Condoleezza
con the preacher, you tryin to get on a feature
Better get your bastard (why?), I'm gon' eat ya
We ain't in the same weight
Your fake ass, couldn't stop a nigga with brake
I'm way past, anything that you did
I'm kid and we never sweat a bid
It's to get a cig
In the bing, I'm Ving Rhames, I bring pain
I sling 'caine off the wing like I'm James
Y'all doubtin
I spit the whole lead, they be callin Code Red, like Mountain Dew
'Fore I count to two, you could get back blown (OH!)
Cause your chemic's out of like a TracFone (NIGGA!)
Get homes, I'm back on my shit
I don't mingle, I'm like Pringles, my chips
my fifth, you the 'test me type'
Comin out a "Blade" to get Wesley sniped
So the cops arrest me, right? It's not happenin
You ain't ever gonna get on, so stop
(H20) comin this summer, so stop
All heat Wall Street, your stock crashin
Now the Feds want to read his
Lord have mercy, Christ, I got passion
I'm black and all my niggaz gettin this
We in the Chevy and ready to pop and (what? OH!)

[Chorus - Joe - w/ ad libs]
So whatever you to do little niggaz (niggaz), I already done (done)
And since you to live by it little nigga (nigga), then die by the gun (gun)
See whatever you tryin to do little nigga, I've already (done)
So how the fuck you gon' win nigga (nigga), I've already won (won)

[Verse 3 -
Like we always do it,
Yes (yes), go (yes), uh huh
Aiyyo, money is the root of all I thought
But I'm broke is usually when I have the evilest thoughts
That's when the arms come out, like sleeves it's short
With more bullets your favorite wide receiver has caught
And that Randy Mossberg, ya Steve Smith & ya
Your pop up like Instant Messenger
You've got mail, naw you got shells
And my Mac, you can't use for
I've got that, that will lie flat
And my gat is on leg thigh tat
I nigga, who you dudes
Some broke niggaz who tryin to get youtube views
So 'less you want a blank, boy you're too close
Bail's in pocket, is Lawyer Lou Los
I'm pretty sure more hotties seen me in four door ridey
Double pipes a sawed off shotty, nigga

(IS WHAT YOU WANT?)

[Verse 4 - Joe
Look, I flow sickly, ridin, old Biggie
with me or lose weight, Nicole Richie
Fuck plat, if I reach diamond fame
I treat a nigga's like the old Simon game
out why men try us
Cause we OD on rims and tires, for that we Len Bias
All it is a punch
He ain't brave, he a
I'll put his in boxes, meet the Brady Bunch
How y'all yourselves?
Should kill yourselves, us Cowboys don't need you, you Parcells
And you ain't got to empty your when the K's out
Whatever you is mine, you my PayPal
See I don't get how guy is a threat
I make his inept for a pie to the neck
Ride or die, if you both nigga, ride to the
I the whole left side of his chest
Not retirin, still got pension pendin
Tryin to pop the hood and see the missin
Double barrelled shotgun, have men get missin
She got pretty brown eyes and she in mint
Oh the cig in the car, you en moi
Take the ratchet go and just Chris Benoit
I tell a bird like it is, you promise the
I one line her (you), you Thomas the broad
I send a clique cartridge at a nemesis target
And catch a ROR on Jena 6 charges (naw)
Naw, I'll put this away
I don't even need a whole hairdo to flip 'em, all it take is one wave
Been in the bing for days, you how I'm real
Come home to the truck with the Optimus grill
Handed out crack, got the poppin off
They not on 'em, the fiends is noddin off
For real, me how you a thug and you Superman (nigga)
I just seen you in the doin the Superman (nigga)
A bunch of clowns
All I in this world is the pound chrome, Huxtable brown stone
paper (I mean), cake by the layers
If dudes is live, I'm the Creative Player
They callin 'em 'Kings' when so so hot
Something's wrong with that picture, be Photoshop
I promote violence, but when sparkin the flame - BLAM
start wavin like the Carlton Banks dance
When tools go pop, it move whole blocks
Come around your dog and get Cujo shot
MC's is lame, I try to be an MC with brains
These niggaz is MC
nice, rappers is far from bein nice
I'm on the rooftop recordin, and niggaz is bein
like

[Chorus - w/ ad

[Outro - DJ On Point - talking - w/ Killa BH ad libs in
Shout to the BSC (whole BSC)
Shout to my Dru Cartier
SlimeBugz, DJ
The Don (The Don), Dre (Dre Bless)
DJ Baby Dru (DJ Dru)
My Freeze