Luyện nghe bài hát Last Of The Spiddyocks

I'm blue mood yall, I with jiva yall
I'm actually deep yall, invented time
In ten fourths yall, I pay your cap
I late yall and draw down to

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

The seasons good like a sweet
I hang out with a gang out flat bush with cool
I found the reverberated was goddamn
And questions 'bout the methods how the made jam

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

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

Its cool was the bop and the flair
I kicks to my by the nap of their hair
I'm pinnin' Uncle Sam for the death of quotes
For losin' Bud Powell slidin' Dizzy's notes

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

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

I'm so shy yall, I'm hip to badge
From sector six, and now and then too
I slows the trims yall and fades a now
I the nat yall I'm layin' out yall, yeah

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

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

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

I lay it on the about monk
The extensions comin' boomin' out that trunk
Assumin' that the room in which you zooms designed by mind
Not the stars and stripes but red booms
And the by Max or Philly Joe on we go

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

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

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

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

And goes on and on to the break of moon, baby
The is gone but they used to come lovely
The sickness towards the worlds cause Sam caused the
But takes 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 jazz, uh, its like us now