Luyện nghe bài hát Let Me Out

i dont sell yay
get my door in by the kkk
shoulda said the
lookin for the quarter piece inside my

from the of the ghetto
i try to
ya my music
on a CD or rap
i it then take it
to the mom and papa
for a cash flo'
from the mom and papa

dont want no rappers on consignment
find alignment
come back another
people even know who you is
you need a in the music biz

your album, for one, has no
your elbows and kneecaps have no
ashy, your music is trashy
outkast, they class me
out the door is they catch me
(WHERE?)
into the street
(WHERE YOU GOIN?)
now im on my way to meet
(SAY WHAT?)
Tryn to a mil without a record deal
selling tapes off the back of my de ville (Bucka!)

Hustlin on the is hard
in a fight the white security guard
talkin 'no solicitin, no publicitin'
I try to talk to him but he not listenin
Punk ass, flunk ass, cant dunk ass
ass, monk ass, sufferin suckatash!
Now i'm seein a black guard for a Korean
tellin me i cant be in the places i be in
you can your money here
you cant make no here
you better get outta here ya here
did i myself clear?
i go and a beer
til im in my belly
big as missy (EEEEEE!)

I'm so depressed overstressed
wanna rap so im obsessed
sometimes i wanna my heat
make them play my song on the beat (BUCKA!!!!)

let me out, let me out
let me show the whole world what im all
let me out, let me out
let me rap til the people scream n shout
let me out, let me out
let me show the whole world the of me
let me out, let me out
let me take of my destiny

depressed,
smokin,
black,
monster,
sellin,
money,
for a murder, black
like flack
get dressed up, get my tapes up
'cause the music industry is up, baby!
i throw a pity party as i sip
on! rap tapes, i dont need nobody
ima givin, colt 45 sippin
its the year 2000 and my gerri curl still
it might sound in my rhyme
but im the west coast
i change with the hands of time
i am is what i am
if you dont like what i am i give a damn
pecker's my title, john king is my idol
im havin thoughts suicidal, young rival
i care about fashion, just cadillac mashin
bags to put my grass in, to put my cash in
i dont wear FUBU like you do 'cause is booboo
i pull my gat and you shit boo boo sit
you talk too shit, thats why you got hit
walkin home your gums split
while i sit, sell yay, (BUCKA!)
N.W.A. (BUCK-BUCKA-BUCKA!)
cruisin down the street in my 6
punk get GA-FFO, bitch
I wanna kill every cop I
I wanna down this house that swapped me
Im talkin smack but you hearin
get your gat, i gotta start racketeerin, clearin
all the koreans and all the
the makin money off of black human beings
OH! it up, give it up
its time for the black folks to it up
a-ya-hey! burn it down, it down
run the cops outta town, motherfucker
so tell andy griffith his punk ass b
runs from the vigilante
it be,
a dictatorship, ran by the klu klan
the wrath of the afroman

let me out, let me out
let me show these what im all about
let me out, let me out
fuck the in the ass til he scream and shout
let me out, let me out
let me show the whole the best of me
let me out, let me out
let me take control of my

I CAN DO IT, I CAN IT
if you dont give it to me baby, ima it
the music industry, fuck the music biz
i make my own rap tape and it like it is
revolution,
revolution - thats the
i made the rap tape, i the CD
fuck the corporate world, GIVE THE TO ME!
BITCH!

Nobody the Afroman

fuck the police and the ku klan

ima hustla, east side young busta