Luyện nghe bài hát I Shot Ya (remix)

Ha!
Yeah,L.O.D.
Keith Murray, Def
Mista, Mista, Mista, Mista
You hit? (You wanna hit?)
Gimme an plus a pen and a pad

Yo, I'm here to make a dollar out of cents
And let my balls hang like I'm on a toilet a shit
My style is all that, and a big bag of wit the dip
Fuck all sensuous shit
I represent intellectual
And leave your holier than the Ten Commandments
Redman I shift with the ruck
If ya if was a spliff be all fucked up (Word up!)
No need to ask you who is he, Son I get
Scuff my Timbs on the boulevard of ruff cities (Chicago, LA, any of them)
I'll have to Norman Bate ya I ta hate ya
Cause you'se a freak by
Can't to face ya, mutilate ya
Drink style down straight wit no chaser (Word up!)
My combat's like a mini-Mac to your back
As soon as one of you niggaz try to react
The L.O.D. love good confrontation or (Word up!)
your concentration, murder your camp
For the jealous, overzealous, we
Blow the the spot like Marsalis
coming through and acting wild
Y'all commercial niggas better have a Coke and a
I ya!

Yo, I conversate wit men, it's time to begin again
Forgot what I knew, hey yo you hear me friend?
want my mind, soul, and my body
Secret society, to keep they eye on me
But I'm stay incogni', in places they find me
Make my strategically, the G.O.D.
It's sorta similar but iller than a chess
I use my thinker, it coincides my blinker
you wondered what we saying on the records real
Yeah you motherfucking right kid you know the
My is Infamous just like the fucking title read
You get back slapped so make ya nose bleed
Some, kids feeling guilty the,
But you first baby girl so face it (alright)
But anyway, on the real side of things
My niggas sling cracks and fat diamond rings
Not is it inside the songs that we sing (kid)
Everything is not just a song that we sing (word up, it's real)
From my to the paper (what), very accurately
Give you all of my two so maybe you can
Prodigy will will S-H-I-N-E (shine baby, just shine)
My attract millions like the moon attract the sea
How dare you ever in life walk past me
Without acknowledging this man as
I shot ya ass

Now who the fuck you think you talking to, I pay dues I crews
I'm Joey Crack, motherfuckers be like he's bad news
Running this racket, from New York to
Slaughtering people, bring a ton of keys Puerto Rico
I'd rather be feared than because the fear lasts longer
These bitch ass know we stronger
Than these weaklings, seeking, for that ain't there
Knuckleheads beware, mad tension in the air
Tommy guns for fun, shotties for block
While lead heats up your insides like a fifth of Bacardi
Call the ambulance, man's wet
Bullets cut him down from the up just like a Gillette
Razor, which I keep hidden in my
to spatter, at any ad out, that wants to quarrel
These feds me for some tax evasion
Now that the fact that somebody's getting lucci not Caucasian
Bullets be through these streets filled with torture (what the deal pop)
Joey Crack, a.k.a. Kaiser

Thug niggas give minks to chinks
To' down we sip drinks minks,
rings and things (what the deal)
Fronting hardcore inside the Jeep, macking
Doing my thing fly nigga you a Scarface
Bitches grab ya ta-ta's, get them niggas for cheddar
it, Gucci sweaters and Armani leathers
Flossing rocks like the of Fort Knox
Four carats, the ice rocks, pussy
Like Versace pops (what the deal)
Want ta the creep, on the light raw ass
I'm raw dog without protection, disease infested
Italiano got the
I gets down with Brown Fox extra keys to the drop
Boo I'm Jingling Baby, I got crazy who pay me
To lay low, I slow
Roll the Firm, Mafiaso crime king pin
It all real nigga tha deal
I ya!

What the fuck? I I conquered the whole world
Crushed Moe Dee, Hammer, and Ice-T's
But still, niggas want to instigate
I'll battle any nigga in tha rap game
Name the spot, I make it hot for ya
Female rappers too, I give a fuck boo
Word, I'm to crush all my peers
Rhymes of the month in The Source for years
Niggas scared, I'm to your mental state
I use my presidential Rolex to be
fight, glock cocked ya temple gets fucked
MC's, that fuck with LL gets bucked
That's real, what's up with that I Shot Ya
Light shit, slip now how the bullet feel?
New York appeal, in L.A. gang bang
But if you touch a mic your ass hang
That's facts, niggaz don't no type of slack
Cause if they do, they ass is running back
Not this time, but next time I'ma names
LL, shitting on top of the game
I ya!