Luyện nghe bài hát Ingredients to Time Travel

[sound of Murray intro from Mary J. Blige 'What's the 411' tape
which I could swear has been set to B.I.G.'s "Who Shot Ya" on
the sound of the beat (Artifacts assure me that is Mary J. Blige)]
"My subliminals, mixed criminal chemicals
Got more syllables than alphabet cereal..."
door slams*

Tame: I gots ta get this bag of bam ba zi, this!

"You know who the I am so get off that old bullshucks!"
--> (scratched sample)
"He ain't shit, you ain't shit, your momma shit, daddy ain't shit"
--> (scratched sample)

[Tame
If I had it my way, every wack MC die Friday
Makin Saturday a day
Sunday start your week off til Monday
One day tunes I wrote yesterday will be scriptures for today
At high noon, Boom Skwad with knowledge
at apostles, who squalor in despair, despisin those who follow
Swallowin pride like St. Ide's while you stare... a drink
Don't think in a eyeblink I won't my hijinks
and hijack a flight right, when?]
Tomorrow night, cause off the record with the treble and the
I chase my lyrics the rap race
Last place is not an option in my case
Waste not want not because I not
The Notty his lyrical shotty cocked
and locked up at your temple, instrumentals
("It's all in mind") you No. 2 like the pencil
The Skwadron, Godson, who got the Bop Gun
The top gun, the jump like Datsun
I got one, candy-coated rhymes skits I shit on when I get on
flip the scripts like I had Zips on
It's on electrical, my symmetrical
alphabetic keeps my ridin on my testicles
("he shit, you ain't shit, ain't nobody shit")
You to the rescue, let me you
Who the best crew, definite
has to be the Skwad cause I'm the
All you with your twelve inches need pinches
Wake the up and check out what this is
("he shit, you ain't shit, your momma ain't shit, ain't nobody shit")
I see nuttin but victories
MC's they can get to me, then bring it
Cause once I pass the blunt to my Lieutenant we in it
For the infinite, no play
The notty headed Newark nigga NJ and the Sensai
represent fully, playin bullies out for
you'll be rappin, get tapped and say you scrappin
While I been waitin hatin fake that make they bacon
passion, rippin up they stickers for reaction
Practicin on rap has-beens, I'm down the Biz like Backspin
Dissin Mikes like the
Thick like the on that Fugee chick
like the dicks in booty flicks
Dissin niggaz like a snooty (trick)
I only pop a if it smells Gucci
Get the lucci hit it for months and then smoke blunts the hoochies
("What's the Dunn" - Tame)
You know the flavor blue cheese
on how I make crews bleed and MC's who try to do me

("He shit, you ain't... ahh motherfucker")
"Do me baby, do me baby"
("he ain't shit, you shit...")
"bom ba zi, it ain't motherfuckers"
("He shit, you ain't shit")

Outro: CMZ

75% water, H2O, PE, alcohol, oil
on temperature, what's the hot shit?
Rhino, Tame, Boom Skwad, Descent
INI, Reflections, the Twins
God, recognize what's fake
Time to turn to purple chrome
purple yellow red white chrome