Luyện nghe bài hát Family Reunion

[Intro - BH - talking]
Uh oh!
It's time again
been too long
It's family
We got to y'all to the game (IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT?)
You know what let's to 'em (HUH?)
go (IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT?)

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

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

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

[Verse 1 -
nobody tryin to rap or play me
I'll be at they crib a couple hammers and a black old AV
gonna pay me, still get the smack off Baisley
Cause I'm touchin diesel than Shaq old lady
Boy, you did it, I it, I get it, I punish
The shit I come with'll separate a rib from a stomach
I'm the boss, when I it, you love it
fact, I'm a Viking, I need a whole village to plumage
Yeah, the is here, the city is scared
You got the throne? Then I I need to sit in your chair
We could get physical here
And the the limit nigga, I put your whole clique in the air
Baby, so playin, 'fore the clips spray 'em
And his MIA like Nick Saban
His whole caved in, my whole clique cavemen
Hard bodied nigga, my whole pavement
You can't spit if you in the ground
In the woods, your head'll be found
And good that you gettin it now, in the precinct confessin it now
I can't fuck with the rest of you clowns,

2 - Hitchcock]
High in the before the storm
Park, the Audubon
Slang on the same block that the water on
I be more gone, run and get your order form
time I record a song, gon' put my daughter on
Cause she than most niggaz
I tote triggers, for you broke and gold diggers with no figures
That why I the heater, for all you non-believers
I'm on your ass white on Rice, I'm Condoleezza
Better con the preacher, you tryin to get on a
get your casket bastard (why?), I'm gon' eat ya
We ain't in the same weight
Your fake ass, couldn't a nigga with brake pads
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 like Ving Rhames, I pain
I 'caine off the wing like I'm King James
doubtin who?
When I spit the lead, they be callin Code Red, like Mountain Dew
'Fore I count to two, you could get back blown (OH!)
your chemic's out of minutes like a TracFone (NIGGA!)
Get homes, I'm back on my shit
I don't mingle, I'm Pringles, stackin my chips
my fifth, you the 'test me type'
Comin out with a "Blade" to get sniped
So the cops could arrest me, It's not happenin
You ain't ever get on, so stop rappin
(H20) comin this summer, so stop
All heat Wall Street, your stock crashin
Now the Feds to read his rights
Lord have mercy, Christ, I got passion
I'm black and all my gettin this 'feti
We in the Chevy and ready to pop and (what? OH!)

[Chorus - Joe - w/ ad libs]
So whatever you tryin to do little (niggaz), I already done (done)
And since you want to live by it nigga (nigga), then die by the gun (gun)
See whatever you to do little nigga, I've already done (done)
So how the fuck you gon' win little (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 evil I
But I'm broke is usually when I have the evilest thoughts
That's when the arms come out, like when it's short
With bullets than your favorite wide receiver has caught
And that Randy Mossberg, ya Steve Smith & ya
Your shoes pop up like Messenger
You've got mail, naw nigga you got
And my Mac, you use for iChat
I've got that, confused will lie flat
And my gat is on leg thigh tat
I nigga, who you dudes
Some broke niggaz who tryin to get some youtube
So 'less you a point blank, boy you're too close
Bail's in pocket, is Lawyer Lou Los
I'm sure more hotties seen me in that four door ridey
Double pipes like a off shotty, nigga

(IS WHAT YOU WANT?)

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

[Chorus - w/ ad

- DJ On Point - talking - w/ Killa BH ad libs in background]
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 nigga