Luyện nghe bài hát I Shot Ya

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

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

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

I ya! (uh)
I got ya strap to the
Trapped in a cagin, toe kissin' a
Ya mob's locked underneath the surface
Ya gettin' nervous for talkin' with no purpose
Laced up, mind charmer, mad
What goes comes around, not around farmers
Silence, sh, deadly
and battle, let me add you to my medley
Possessin' power, takin' everything I can
Go get it now, why you dwellin' on the past?
Baby boys reminiscin' old shit
Young fools get dicked, LL rules the
a platinum fist, the relentless abyss
I take you to a land where piranhas like to
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 blow the spot up, kid
No about it
Yeah, yeah, I ain't through, I ain't through, I through

Uh-uh-uh-oh, kinda leery
Ya thought I fell off, they didn't want to hear me
Oh really, now me how long have you been whinin'
Sixteen years, twenty million albums, you're climbin'
I love your joint The Bells', it was mad hot
Ya record 'bout the Radio was blowin' up my
My girl was on your chip when you flipped 'I Love'
Your backseat set was mad butter, son
I loved your system it was wicked as could be
You bad, now I'm on your pink cookies
And you had me 'Mama 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 with me
Why'nah mean? Man, it
does it
I gotta pluck it buzzards
I ya!

x3]

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