Luyện nghe bài hát I Shot Ya

Blaze one, word up!
blaze this one
No doubt! uh, check it, it, check it!
uh, uh, check it, check it, 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 niggas now, it, check it, check it!
Yeah, we 'bout to this one off nice, why'nah mean?
up, check it!

I ya!
I'm brothers open like a doctor
Ya fell asleep, the teeth got'cha
I drop ya in boilin' acid
Ya melt like plastic, elastic, is
Violations, vibrations, son
the hammer let the Uncle give 'em one
Done a flick of a wicked lunatic
puttin' hits on your clique, got'cha wife in turnin'
You don't want 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 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 to hit, give me a hour (uh)
Plus a pen and a pad (uh, check it, it, check it!)
I ya!

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

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

Uh-uh-uh-oh, kinda leery
Ya clique I fell off, they didn't want to hear me
Oh really, now me how long have you been whinin'
years, twenty million albums, yeah you're climbin'
I love 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 'I Need Love'
Your backseat 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 'Mama 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
Why'nah Man, rock it
Easy it
I gotta pluck it buzzards
I ya!

x3]

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