Luyện nghe bài hát Ingredients to Time Travel

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

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

"You know who the fuck I am so get off old bullshucks!"
--> (scratched sample)
"He shit, you ain't shit, your momma 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
wouldn't start your week off til Monday
One day tunes I wrote yesterday will be tomorrow's scriptures for
At high noon, Boom Gods with knowledge
Holler at apostles, who squalor in despair, those who follow
Swallowin pride like St. Ide's you stare... take a drink
think in a eyeblink I won't start my hijinks
and hijack a flight right, when?]
Tomorrow night, cause off the record the treble and the bass
I my lyrics through the rap race
Last place is not an option in my case
Waste not want not I front not
The Notty his lyrical shotty cocked
and locked up at temple, over instrumentals
("It's all in mind") you No. 2 like the pencil
The Skwadron, Godson, who got the Bop Gun
The top gun, from the like Datsun
I got one, candy-coated rote rhymes skits I shit on I get on
Then flip the like I had Zips on
It's on like electrical, my
alphabetic keeps my competition on my testicles
("he ain't shit, you shit, ain't nobody 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 need pinches
Wake the fuck up and check out what is
("he ain't shit, you ain't shit, your momma ain't shit, ain't shit")
I see nuttin but victories
MC's think they can get to me, bring it
Cause once I the blunt to my Lieutenant then we in it
For the infinite, no play
The headed Newark nigga from NJ and the Sensai
fully, playin bullies out for yappin
Thinkin you'll be rappin, get tapped and say you
While I been waitin hatin fake MC's that make bacon
with passion, rippin up stickers for reaction
Practicin on rap has-beens, I'm down with the Biz like
Dissin like the Jacksons
Thick like the on that Fugee chick
like the dicks in booty flicks
Dissin like a snooty bitch (trick)
I only pop a coochie if it smells
Get the lucci hit it for and then smoke blunts with the hoochies
("What's the Dunn" - Tame)
You know the flavor blue cheese
on how I crews 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 ain't motherfuckers"
("He shit, you ain't shit")

Outro: CMZ

75% water, H2O, PE, alcohol, oil
Dependin on temperature, the hot shit?
Rhino, Tame, Skwad, Hidden Descent
INI, Reflections, the Twins
Aight God, recognize fake
to turn platinum to purple chrome
Green purple yellow red white