Luyện nghe bài hát Last Of The Spiddyocks

I'm mood yall, I slive with jiva yall
I'm actually deep yall, invented yall
In ten yall, I pay your cap yall
I player late yall and down to

I bust raps yall, in love with naps
The sweet kid, I speak my thoughts yall
I wreck the break yall, trust the flag yall
I dig the birds yall, I'm layin' out now,

The seasons been good like a
I hang out with a gang out flat bush cool beats
I the reverberated shout was goddamn
And questions 'bout the methods how the Planets jam

Wallowed a gang a murk in the interim
I couple time we got jerked but still invented
Wicked little joints that got us ghetto weight
And kept the jazz alive by pullin' off the plates

Maybe only we was hip to stretchin' out the
I Bird Parker when I shot it in my vein
I these major losses on the Mingus jazzy strum
Flip off a nod and dig myself a dyin' young

Its like cool was the bop and the
I kicks to my pools by the nap of their
I'm pinnin' Sam for the death of swingin' quotes
For losin' Bud Powell slidin' over Dizzy's

Was it that the rebirth was the for new shit, of cool shit
The jazz power from the crew was sure legit
But hey, present since Hank Mo's gone
They kill the breeze in this land of the free

And it been like that they lied about they flag
Like all my main mans gave they beats up for
So I pops it at your like Bu I did a lid
But I used Lee's Cooker got my buzz around

I'm so shy yall, I'm hip to yall
sector six, yeah and now and then too
I the trims yall and fades a fake now
I know the nat yall I'm out yall, yeah

The been smooth like the suede
Pumas that butter got butter got paid
Or better yet Dolphy's archetypes for cool
Or better still usin' space in afro blue

Its simple, swing be the of the time
The spinnin' by the kings good for speakin' of the
The seven sessions gave the buzzes that I caught
They asked was it blues knowledge
(What you thought?)

I told 'em it was solid, dig, the was way out
My loves to kiss when Ornette just lays out
So the quotes be as such the kits, uh
You down Digable Planets yous a hipster, shit

I lay it on the cats monk
The logical extensions boomin' out that trunk
Assumin' that the room in which you zooms by your mind
Not the stars and stripes but red booms
And the rat-a-tat-tat by Max or Joe on we go

The fly shit yall, we dont quit
Its beats here and its out there
A groove kid, the jive is high yall
We aint yall okay pow me up

Uh, the seasons been fat like boom
math jazz fillin' up the room
When Booker jam with at the funky five spot
Jimmy Cob's job was crashes on the top

Butter cop his lid at this Harlem jam
The tenor bop the middle and his and his tam
I'm diggin' how these dudes my buzz a little hipper
And angles on the moves really get no blacker

I'm sinkin' deep to the sleekness of the
I'm take the hipness and just lay it in my form
So when the hoodlums flood for another anthem
I say its in the cause it notin' but rhythm

And rhythm goes on and on to the of moon, baby
The dads is gone but used to come lovely
The sickness towards the cause Sam caused the blues
But hipness a swirl and jams by my crew

Infect space yall, we swing yall
Its like yeah, its like be bop
The new slips, oh shit, we got fly kicks
Its like jazz, uh, its us now