Luyện nghe bài hát Let Me Out

i dont wanna yay
get my kicked in by the kkk
shoulda said the
lookin for the quarter inside my caprice

from the tracks of the
i try to
ya caught my
on a CD or rap
i make it then it
to the mom and papa
for a cash flo'
the mom and papa store

dont no more rappers on consignment
find another
back another climate
people don't know who you is
you need a in the music biz

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

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

I'm so depressed plus
wanna rap so hard im
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 what im all about
let me out, let me out
let me rap til the party people n shout
let me out, let me out
let me the whole world the best of me
let me out, let me out
let me take contol of my

depressed,
smokin,
black,
monster,
sellin,
money,
for a murder, black
like flack
get dressed up, get my tapes up
'cause the music is messed up, baby!
i throw a party as i sip bacardi
sell on! rap tapes, i dont need
ima beethoven givin, colt 45
its the year 2000 and my gerri curl drippin
it might sound in my rhyme
but im the west coast
i cant with the hands of time
i am is what i am
if you dont what i am i dont give a damn
black pecker's my title, king is my idol
im thoughts thats suicidal, young rival
i dont care fashion, just cadillac mashin
bags to put my grass in, bank to put my 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
home with your gums split
while i sit, yay, eryday (BUCKA!)
N.W.A. (BUCK-BUCKA-BUCKA!)
cruisin the street in my 6 A---FRO
punk get GA-FFO, bitch
I wanna kill every cop I
I wanna burn down this house swapped me
Im smack but you aint hearin
get your gat, i gotta start racketeerin, clearin
all the koreans and all the
the ones makin off of black human beings
OH! give it up, it up
its time for the folks to live it up
a-ya-hey! burn it down, it down
run the white cops town, motherfucker
so tell andy griffith his punk ass b
from the black vigilante
it be,
a dictatorship, ran by the klu klux
feel the of the afroman

let me out, let me out
let me show these motherfuckers what im all
let me out, let me out
fuck the sheriff in the ass til he and 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

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

Nobody the Afroman

fuck the and the ku klux klan

ima hungry hustla, side young busta