Luyện nghe bài hát La Schmoove

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

La Schmoove, yo we don't got nuttin to prove 'Leave it to Beaver'-arriva,
Heavens to ba FU sayanora
adios muchachos dorme unbuckle my Fu-Schnick shoe
Mr., Fu, about to wreck shop
the Judo (CHOP!) a Judo (CHOP!) a Judo chop CHOP!
Yo, zilch kaput me none son
I don't think so, so take a at
a Superfly big Jimmy the Honeynut Bee
ba schnicker bah
I ams I ams that's all what I ams
My are never done
I'm the big John Elmer Glue the Elmer the
Al Bundy the Bud stud
Come tongues lashes, with the quickness
Moc and Poc is, my
Ask the Kung about my tongue and the that I brung instead
I'm the Ali cutty rankin shuba-dib-da-dabble
Jaw Boy Bread dread, BUM BA READ
These lyrics ah-come out of mi head, BUM BA
Mr. Chip Fu's gon stay' di-di, da-di-di,
You said I couldn't rap, but I wrecked shop
and I stop drop, I get props
I up the mic drop a style and pattern and fashion
and all MC's drops down
My accent, you're mockin, my clothes, clockin
Rippin MC's to smithereens to
Long-STOCKINGS
So don't step to Chip, I'm on the La tip
You'll say "Drats I really failed again plus he my Babble-ship"
So oooh, shit G, wa-wa or
Rip it and be specific doin it terrific when I it
Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang, Pepe LePew, LePew
La Schmoove, yo I got NUTTIN to prove!

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

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

La Schmoove, yo we don't got to prove