Luyện nghe bài hát I Shot Ya

Blaze this one, up!
I'ma this one
No doubt! uh, check it, check it, it!
uh, uh, check it, it, check it!
I'm Uncle L, it, check it, check it!
The Trackmasters, it, check it, check it!
Now everybody now, check it, check it, it!
All my now, check it, check it, check it!
Yeah, we to serve this one off nice, why'nah mean?
up, check 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 plastic, elastic, is drastic
Violations, vibrations, son
Cock the let the Uncle give 'em one
take a flick of a wicked lunatic
puttin' hits on your clique, got'cha wife in tricks
You don't want to, I thought that you was bawlin'
Now watch 'cause I cock ya love, ya girlies
Uh, what's my function? injection
Blazin' niggas, hittin' 'em raw no protection
I advantage
Ya fear me, I'm doin'
Ya me
The whole scenario is
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)
Plus a pen and a pad (uh, 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 down underneath the surface
Ya gettin' for talkin' shit with no purpose
Laced up, mind charmer, mad
What around 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 always on the past?
Baby boys old school shit
Young fools get dicked, LL rules the
With a platinum fist, the relentless
I take you to a land where like to kiss
Massacre, mmuh, up the tour bus passengers
Chuckin' the color cartoon character
Ya get
Real recognize what my theory is
I ya!

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

Uh-uh-uh-oh, lookin' kinda
Ya clique thought I off, they didn't want to hear me
Oh really, now tell me how long you been whinin'
Sixteen years, twenty million albums, you're climbin'
I your joint 'Rock The Bells', it was mad hot
Ya record the Radio was blowin' up my spot
My girl was on your chip when you flipped 'I Love'
Your backseat set was mad butter, son
I your boomin' system it was wicked as could be
You bad, now I'm on your pink cookies
And you had me screamin' Said Knock 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 fought me
mean? Man, rock it
Easy it
I gotta it like buzzards
I ya!

x3]

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