Luyện nghe bài hát I Shot Ya

Blaze one, word up!
I'ma blaze one
No doubt! uh, it, check it, check it!
uh, uh, it, check it, check it!
I'm Uncle L, check it, check it, 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 'bout to serve one off nice, why'nah mean?
Word up, it!

I ya!
I'm brothers open like a doctor
Ya fell asleep, the teeth got'cha
I drop ya down in boilin'
Ya like plastic, elastic, is drastic
Violations, vibrations, son
Cock the let the Uncle give 'em one
Done a flick of a wicked lunatic
hits on your clique, got'cha wife in turnin' tricks
What? You want to, I thought that you was bawlin'
Now watch I cock ya love, ya girlies fallin'
Uh, my function? Lyrical injection
niggas, hittin' 'em raw with no protection
I take
Ya fear me, I'm doin'
Ya me
The whole is dreary
is gettin' wet up in the game
I meet you up in Memphis, call my name
I ya!

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

I ya! (uh)
I got ya strap to the
Trapped in a cagin, toe kissin' a
Ya mob's down underneath the surface
Ya gettin' nervous for talkin' with no purpose
up, mind charmer, mad drama
What goes around comes around, not around
Silence, sh, very
Come and battle, let me add you to my
power, takin' everything I can grasp
Go get it now, why you always on the past?
Baby boys reminiscin' old shit
Young fools get dicked, LL the shit
With a platinum fist, the relentless
I take you to a land where like to kiss
Massacre, mmuh, up the tour bus passengers
the color outta cartoon character
Ya get
Real recognize what my theory is
I ya!

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

Uh-uh-uh-oh, kinda leery
Ya clique thought I off, they didn't want to hear me
Oh really, now tell me how have you been whinin'
Sixteen years, 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 your chip when you flipped 'I Need
backseat count set was mad butter, son
I loved your boomin' system it was wicked as be
You bad, now I'm writin' on your cookies
And you had me screamin' 'Mama Said 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 with me
Why'nah mean? Man, it
does it
I pluck it like buzzards
I ya!

x3]

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