Luyện nghe bài hát I Shot Ya

Blaze this one, up!
I'ma blaze one
No doubt! uh, check it, it, check it!
uh, uh, it, check it, check it!
I'm Uncle L, check it, it, check it!
The Trackmasters, check it, it, check it!
Now now, check it, check it, check it!
All my niggas now, check it, check it, it!
Yeah, we 'bout to serve this one off nice, why'nah
up, check it!

I ya!
I'm splittin' brothers open a doctor
Ya fell asleep, the teeth got'cha
I drop ya in boilin' acid
Ya melt like plastic, elastic, is
Violations, vibrations, son
the hammer let the Uncle give 'em one
Done a flick of a wicked lunatic
puttin' hits on your clique, got'cha wife in turnin'
What? You don't to, I thought that you was bawlin'
Now watch 'cause I cock ya love, ya fallin'
Uh, what's my function? injection
niggas, hittin' 'em raw with no protection
I take
Ya fear me, I'm doin'
Ya me
The scenario is dreary
is gettin' wet up in the game
I you up in Memphis, just call my name
I ya!

x2]
Ya to (uh)
Ya to (uh)
Ya to hit, give me a hour (uh)
a pen and a pad (uh, check it, check it, check it!)
I ya!

I ya! (uh)
I got ya to the stagin'
Trapped in a cagin, toe a Cajun
Ya mob's locked underneath the surface
Ya nervous for talkin' shit with no purpose
Laced up, charmer, mad drama
What goes around around, not around farmers
Silence, sh, very
and battle, let me add you to my medley
Possessin' power, takin' I can grasp
Go get it now, why you dwellin' on the past?
Baby reminiscin' old school shit
fools get dicked, LL rules the shit
With a fist, the relentless abyss
I you to a land where piranhas like to kiss
Massacre, mmuh, blowin' up the tour bus
Chuckin' the color outta character
Ya get
niggas recognize what my theory is
I ya!

I ya!
Word up, I'ma this shit crazy, why'nah mean?
Word up, we're blow the spot up, kid
No doubt it
Yeah, yeah, I ain't through, I ain't through, I through

Uh-uh-uh-oh, kinda leery
Ya clique thought I fell off, they didn't want to me
Oh really, now tell me how long you been whinin'
years, twenty million albums, yeah you're climbin'
I love your joint The Bells', it was mad hot
Ya record 'bout the Radio was up my spot
My girl was on chip when you flipped 'I Need Love'
Your count set was mad butter, son
I loved your boomin' system it was as could be
You bad, now I'm writin' on pink cookies
And you had me screamin' Said Knock Ya Out'
Ya jinglin', baby, no
Uh, talk to me (what, what, uh, uh) a zombie, walk to me
Ain't a MC alive who fought me
Why'nah Man, rock it
does it
I pluck it like buzzards
I ya!

x3]

What, what, what, what,
Uh,
Why'nah This is how we gettin' down for crizzown
No diggity, I'm sayin'
Trackmasters lace me, I'm sayin'
And I care of mines, why'know I mean'
it son!
Peace!