Luyện nghe bài hát La Schmoove

La Schmoove, yo we don't got nuttin to prove Yo, I was small they used to tease me
my hair was peasy, hard and greasy
But now I'm livin well like and Wheezy
So easy (WHAT?) it (YO!)
Is it, because I'm, - beats, beats, beats
Fu-Manchu'n cause I'm what just had to be done
Now we in there like swimwear, callin me hon
me hugs, little peck, mucho tongue, lots of sex
Nuff respects to my bros live on five-six street RIGHT
I'm smashin monster mashin bashin in a fashion
which is now I smile when I whip-lash MC's with my style
Call me Cuckoo, I'm makin buku,
I'm geared and prepared to tear all MC's that are, smuks
For bros who sleep and cavity creep and listen when I
as I soothe in the groove, cause I'm smooth Mr. Rourke
Mr. Wu, no need to be rude, but F.U.
cause I ain't got nuttin to

La Schmoove, yo we don't got to prove 'Leave it to Beaver'-arriva, derci
Heavens to mercy ba FU
muchachos dorme vous unbuckle my Fu-Schnick shoe
Mr., Chip Fu, about to wreck
With the Judo (CHOP!) a (CHOP!) a Judo chop CHOP!
Yo, kaput me nada none son
I don't so, so take a look at
a Superfly big Jimmy the Honeynut Bee
ba schnicker bah
I ams I ams that's all what I ams
My lyrics are never
I'm the big John Elmer Glue the Elmer the
Al Bundy the Bud Light
Come like tongues lashes, the quickness
Moc and Poc is, my
Ask the Kung about my tongue and the styles I brung instead
I'm the Ali Babi rankin shuba-dib-da-dabble
Jaw Boy Bread dread, BUM BA READ
These ah-come out of mi head, BUM BA READ
Mr. Chip Fu's gon di-di, da-di-di, dra-dread
You said I couldn't rap, but I really shop
and I don't drop, I get props
I pick up the mic drop a style and and fashion
and all jaws drops down
My accent, mockin, my clothes, you're clockin
Rippin to smithereens to their
ribbidy-diddiby-Pippi
So step to Chip, I'm on the La Schmoove tip
You'll say "Drats I really failed again plus he my Babble-ship"
So oooh, shit G, or biscuit?
Rip it and be specific doin it when I kicks it
Bang-Bang, Pepe LePew, Pepe LePew
La Schmoove, yo I ain't got to prove!

La Schmoove, yo we don't got to prove Now here I go, once again, with the ill flow
Other MC's rap, their style is so-so
Phife was never the type that ever lacked skills
I just true to my roots and then I get ill
Twenty years of age, but yet I still see
And this year, was so-called, my Senior in COLLEGE
But I chose to pursue, in a field called
And with hype beats and breaks you know I won't refuse it
Get on the board lay down the and I'll do ten laps
Pass the pen, the pad, and I'll kick nuff RAPS
come inside your jam and witness who is boss
and it be Tony Danza nor Diana Ross
As small as I am, I still can jams
Do a freestyle, and step, but yet I still
Not tryin to say no one can get with me
Not is it the lyrics I write, it's my delivery
Name one rapper that you know who has high-strung voice
My Malik and I'm unique, in other words top choice
Nothin bout this, it's mainly hardcore
Now that you got what you want, do you want
(UHH!) Because I got in store!

La Schmoove, yo we got nuttin to prove MC, the Shining One, a.k.a. The Golden Child
I have a grin at times, but then up a fake smile
Vaseline Care, don't fear mon frere
'Cept I say, that rappin, G pull his hair
in the groove, it's no way you can handle this
Shit so fly, you can call it scandalous
Cause I mani-fest in, words that I'm
Unleashin, you now seek the that I'm teachin
I hear NOT see NOT, knots to butts ROCK
I rides rhythm to the beginnin, then won't
The Chinese Son of Sam, the Skipper's Pan
The rootinest tootinest in the East
Releasin, a new of lyrical lingo
Single, +The Alarm+, the girls cooties I will
No expiration date, so you know I EXPIRE
No skippin a weekly check, so I don't have to
Write, the ca-pital, M.O.
Fu with the Kung-Fu givin shouts on my show
Ir-regular is here too
Tripped, boo-boo, you made a mistake
Not Alexander but to be Great
Great, but, the Grape Ape
Fake, the moves, and your ankles I will
Break, or broken, the M.O., has
Movements on the slick, takin the train you need a
I not, cause you pause for the cause
You either bitin nails, or start pickin straws
Holy Mick I'm large just like trunk jewels
Nuff respects to minds, Ah-OWWWWWWWWWWWEE!

La Schmoove, yo we don't got to prove