Luyện nghe bài hát I Shot Ya

Blaze one, word up!
blaze this one
No doubt! uh, check it, it, check it!
uh, uh, check it, check it, it!
I'm Uncle L, check it, it, check it!
The Trackmasters, check it, check it, it!
Now everybody now, it, check it, check it!
All my now, check it, check it, check it!
Yeah, we to serve this one off nice, why'nah mean?
Word up, it!

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

x2]
Ya to (uh)
Ya to (uh)
Ya want to hit, 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'
in a cagin, toe kissin' a Cajun
Ya locked down underneath the surface
Ya gettin' nervous for talkin' shit no purpose
Laced up, mind charmer, mad
What goes comes around, not around farmers
Silence, sh, very
Come and battle, let me add you to my
Possessin' power, everything I can grasp
Go get it now, why you dwellin' on the past?
Baby reminiscin' old school shit
Young get dicked, LL rules the shit
With a fist, the relentless abyss
I take you to a land where piranhas to kiss
Massacre, mmuh, up the tour bus passengers
Chuckin' the color outta cartoon
Ya get
Real niggas recognize what my is
I ya!

I ya!
Word up, I'ma lace this shit crazy, mean?
Word up, we're gonna blow the up, kid
No about it
Yeah, yeah, I ain't through, I ain't through, I ain't

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

x3]

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