Luyện nghe bài hát Finger Lickin' Good

It's finger lickin', good, y'all
Finger lickin', a-finger-lickin' good,
It's finger lickin', good, y'all
It's finger lickin', good, y'all

Well, d, what's up?
Yo, what's up?
on, Mike, let's tear it up
Hear no evil, see no evil, talkin' no
So many damn people are so damn of it
Keyboard Money Mark, you know he havin' it
Just give him some wood and he'll you a cabinet
I'm convinced that is rippin' me off
I it's his girdle that's tippin' me off
Well, D's out back and he's growin' onions
I've got buns than my man Paul Bunyan's
I've been going nuts all cooped-up
hermitizing but now I'm getting souped-up
It's time to turn the page to a brand new
Settin' my sights and you know what I'm
I'll be in the paper the news with Ernesto
They'll even print my for pasta with pesto
Now another special of the day
You see, I've got more spice the frugal gourmet

lickin', finger-lickin' good, y'all
It's Finger lickin', a-finger-lickin' good,
It's finger lickin', good, y'all

Well, D, what you got for me?
Show these people what it means to be D
Well they me Mike D with the mad-man style
I put the mic up to my lips and I can scream for a
Created a sound at many were shocked at
I've got a million ideas that I ain't rocked yet
I've got the bulb flashing at the top of my head
Never up on the wrong side of the bed
You're an man, not a yes-man
With a to make, you're bound to take a stand
I'm Pete the Puma, Minnie the Moocher
Got every type of or style that will suit 'ya
You know the bass is real fat, because it's be like that
A snare on the funky tin, and a taste of the

Finger lickin', finger-lickin' good,
Finger lickin', a-finger-lickin' good,
It's lickin', it's finger-lickin' good, y'all
A-finger lickin', finger-lickin' good,

Ey yo, Yauch up?
D, what's up?
Come on Yauch, tear it up
Well, I catch a groove like a flash in the dark
I a hold of your attention like a thief in the park
I can flip a rhyme off the tip of my tongue
Yeah, I be up the rhythm like the rhyme's a piece of chewing gum
Now I might chew, but I don't
My are mine when I begin to write
In my sleep I'll be 'bout beats and
Getting on the mic and busting some and
Sport the funky threads that you've never even seen before
What I'm lackin' from the mackin' I can find at the thrift
I scuff nor scuffle, just grin as they walk by
Take time to rhyme for a girl I hear fly
Down papaya, down with the revolution
Always wear my goggles, there's so much pollution
I can do the Freak, the Patty Duke, and the
free the funky fish from the funky fish tanks
I'll sell my house, my car, and I'll sell all my stuff
"I'm going to New York City, I do believe I've had enough"

We're gonna' be out of her in a
So this one goes out to my man, C
My brother Adrock, cuttin' it up on the
Yeah, lickin' good, y'all
DJ Hurricane is finger good, y'all