Luyện nghe bài hát Ingredients to Time Travel

[sound of Keith Murray from Mary J. Blige 'What's the 411' tape
which I swear 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 with criminal
Got more syllables than alphabet cereal..."
*car slams*

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

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

One]
If I had it my way, wack MC would die Friday
Saturday a better day
Sunday start your week off til Monday
One day tunes I wrote yesterday be tomorrow's scriptures for today
At high noon, Boom Skwad Gods with
Holler at apostles, who squalor in despair, despisin those who
Swallowin pride like St. Ide's while you stare... a drink
Don't in a eyeblink I won't start my hijinks
and hijack a [Yeah right, when?]
Tomorrow night, off the record with the treble and the bass
I chase my through the rap race
Last place is simply not an option in my
Waste not want not because I not
The Notty keeps his shotty cocked
and locked up at temple, over instrumentals
("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 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 competition on my testicles
("he ain't shit, you ain't shit, nobody shit")
You to the rescue, let me you
Who the crew, most definite
has to be the Skwad I'm the President
All you misrepresenters your twelve inches need pinches
the fuck up and check out what this is
("he ain't shit, you ain't shit, your momma ain't shit, nobody shit")
I can't see but victories
MC's think they can get to me, bring it
Cause once I pass the blunt to my Lieutenant we in it
For the infinite, no play
The notty headed Newark nigga from NJ and the
fully, playin bullies out for yappin
Thinkin you'll be rappin, get and say you scrappin
While I been waitin fake MC's that make they bacon
with passion, up they stickers for reaction
Practicin on rap has-beens, I'm down with the Biz like
Dissin Mikes the Jacksons
Thick like the on that Fugee chick
Hard the dicks in booty flicks
Dissin like a snooty bitch (trick)
I only pop a if it smells Gucci
Get the lucci hit it for and then smoke blunts with the hoochies
("What's the Dunn" - Tame)
You know the flavor like cheese
on how I make crews and school MC's who try to do me

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

Rhino CMZ

75% water, H2O, PE, alcohol, oil
Dependin on temperature, the hot shit?
Rhino, Tame, Boom Skwad, Hidden
INI, Reflections, check the
Aight God, what's fake
Time to platinum to purple chrome
Green purple yellow red white