Luyện nghe bài hát I Shot Ya

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

I ya!
I'm splittin' open like a doctor
Ya asleep, the vampire teeth got'cha
I drop ya down in acid
Ya melt like plastic, elastic, is
Violations, vibrations, son
Cock the let the Uncle give 'em one
Done take a flick of a wicked
puttin' hits on your clique, got'cha in turnin' tricks
What? You don't to, I thought that you was bawlin'
Now watch 'cause I ya love, ya girlies fallin'
Uh, what's my function? Lyrical
niggas, hittin' 'em raw with no protection
I advantage
Ya me, I'm doin' damage
Ya me
The whole scenario is
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 want to hit, give me a (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
up, mind charmer, mad drama
What goes comes around, not around farmers
Silence, sh, deadly
Come and battle, let me add you to my
power, takin' everything I can grasp
Go get it now, why you always dwellin' on the
Baby boys old school shit
Young fools get dicked, LL the shit
With a platinum fist, the relentless
I take you to a land where piranhas like to
Massacre, mmuh, blowin' up the tour bus
Chuckin' the color outta character
Ya get
Real recognize what my theory is
I ya!

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

Uh-uh-uh-oh, lookin' leery
Ya clique thought I fell off, they didn't to hear me
Oh really, now tell me how long have you whinin'
Sixteen years, twenty million albums, you're climbin'
I love your joint The Bells', it was mad hot
Ya 'bout the Radio was blowin' up my spot
My was on your chip when you flipped 'I Need Love'
Your count set was mad butter, son
I your boomin' system it was wicked 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 mean? This is how we gettin' down for
No diggity, why'know I'm
Trackmasters lace me, I'm sayin'
And I take of mines, why'know I mean'
it son!
Peace!