Luyện nghe bài hát Last Of The Spiddyocks

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

I raps yall, in love with naps yall
The sweet beats kid, I 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 a sweet
I hang out with a gang out flat bush with cool
I found the reverberated was goddamn
And 'bout the methods how the Planets made jam

Wallowed through a gang a murk in the
I couple time we got but still invented them
Wicked little kinky that got us ghetto weight
And also the jazz alive by pullin' off the plates

Maybe only we was hip to 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 a dyin' young

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

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

And it been like since they lied about they flag
Like all my main mans gave they up for skags
So I pops it at crew like Bu I did a lid
But I used Cooker got my buzz around midnight

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

The seasons been smooth the suede
Pumas that got when butter got paid
Or better yet archetypes for cool dudes
Or better still Trane usin' in afro blue

Its simple, swing be the of the time
The spinnin' by the kings good for speakin' of the
The forty seven sessions 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 baby loves to when Ornette just lays out
So the quotes be as bout the kits, uh
You with Digable Planets yous a hipster, shit

I lay it on the cats about
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 yall, we dont quit yall
Its slick beats here and its out
A smooth groove kid, the jive is high
We aint yall okay pow me up

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

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

I'm deep to the sleekness of the horn
I'm thinkin' the hipness and just lay it in my form
So when the hoodlums waitin' for another anthem
I say its in the blood cause it notin' but

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 takes a and jams by my crew

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