Luyện nghe bài hát I Shot Ya

Blaze this one, up!
I'ma blaze one
No doubt! uh, it, check it, check it!
uh, uh, check it, it, check it!
I'm Uncle L, check it, it, check it!
The Trackmasters, it, check it, check it!
Now now, check it, check it, check it!
All my niggas now, 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 open a doctor
Ya asleep, the vampire teeth got'cha
I drop ya down in boilin'
Ya melt plastic, elastic, is drastic
Violations, vibrations, son
the hammer let the Uncle give 'em one
Done take a of a wicked lunatic
puttin' hits on your clique, wife in turnin' tricks
What? You don't to, I thought that you was bawlin'
Now 'cause I cock ya love, ya girlies fallin'
Uh, what's my Lyrical injection
Blazin' niggas, hittin' 'em raw 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, 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 locked down the surface
Ya gettin' nervous for talkin' with no purpose
up, mind charmer, mad drama
What around comes around, not around farmers
Silence, sh, very
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 the shit
a platinum fist, the relentless abyss
I take you to a where piranhas like to kiss
Massacre, mmuh, blowin' up the tour bus
Chuckin' the color cartoon character
Ya get
niggas recognize what my theory is
I ya!

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

Uh-uh-uh-oh, lookin' kinda
Ya clique thought I fell off, they didn't to hear me
Oh really, now tell me how long 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 Need
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 screamin' Said Knock Ya Out'
Ya jinglin', baby, no
Uh, to me (what, what, uh, uh) become a zombie, walk to me
Ain't a MC who fought with me
Why'nah Man, rock it
does it
I gotta pluck it 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 care of mines, why'know I
it son!
Peace!