Luyện nghe bài hát Ingredients to Time Travel

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

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

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

One]
If I had it my way, every wack MC die Friday
Makin a better day
Sunday wouldn't your week off til Monday
One day tunes I yesterday will be tomorrow's scriptures for today
At high noon, Boom Skwad Gods knowledge
Holler at apostles, who squalor in despair, those who follow
Swallowin pride like St. Ide's while you stare... a drink
Don't think in a I won't start my hijinks
and hijack a flight [Yeah right,
Tomorrow night, off the record with the treble and the bass
I my lyrics through the rap race
Last place is simply not an in my case
not want not because I front not
The keeps his lyrical shotty cocked
and locked up at your temple, over
("It's all in your mind") you No. 2 the pencil
The Skwadron, Godson, who got the Bop Gun
The top gun, from the jump like
I got one, candy-coated rote rhymes skits I shit on I get on
Then the scripts like I had Zips on
It's on electrical, my symmetrical
alphabetic keeps my ridin on my testicles
("he ain't shit, you ain't shit, ain't shit")
You to the rescue, let me you
Who the crew, most definite
has to be the Skwad cause I'm the
All you misrepresenters with your twelve inches pinches
Wake the fuck up and check out what is
("he ain't shit, you ain't shit, your momma shit, ain't nobody shit")
I see nuttin but victories
MC's think can get to me, then bring it
Cause once I pass the to my Lieutenant then we in it
For the infinite, no play
The notty headed Newark from NJ and the Sensai
represent fully, playin out for yappin
Thinkin be rappin, get tapped and say you scrappin
While I been waitin hatin fake MC's that make bacon
with passion, up they stickers for reaction
Practicin on rap has-beens, I'm down with the Biz Backspin
Dissin Mikes the Jacksons
Thick the lips on that Fugee chick
Hard like the dicks in booty
niggaz like a snooty bitch (trick)
I only pop a coochie if it Gucci
Get the hit it for months and then smoke blunts with the hoochies
("What's the Dunn" - Tame)
You know the flavor like blue
on how I make bleed and school 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 over 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
Aight God, recognize fake
Time to turn platinum to chrome
Green purple red white chrome