Luyện nghe bài hát Let's Ride

Yo, yo
If you just listen to my lyrics day for a couple of weeks
My techniques will eventually kill you just like red
The Bhagavad Gita I speak be so deep
Most critics get mad because there's to critique
I'm rappin or rhymin
with remarkable timin
I'm like, Chaplin pantomimin
If you Blaze, or you James Flames
or you Jack Cremation, I'm Propane (Jermaine Propane)
No no gain in this rap game
For the fortune and in order to remain
Most real MC's, learn to to the change
or get washed away tears in the rain, in the rain y'all

Wyclef, Product, Pras

[Clef] Just ride, just ride, ah ride e'rybody just ride
Just ride, ride, ah just ride e'rybody just ride
[Pro] When you in the and you're drivin in your V
if you can see what I see, you're prepared for the
Old school, old school
[Pras] got to pack a mac now

Yo, if you know, how I kick a flow
when I rip a show, my lyric-al, I'ma let you know
It's difficult, I'm a part spiritual, part para-physical miracle
And I'ma blackout in a too
Spittin like Bone-Thugs
"Nigga-what? and stick-em-up"
then crush a Thug's Bones a chrome slug
The Cyrano DeBergerac of rap
with the Anglo-Sax' poetic syntax
In fact, nigga even give me dap when I see you
don't give me no ice grill eye contact either
When you see me, whylin like on the speakers
"Zim zimma -- who got the for my reefa?"

Chorus: Product, Pras,

[Pro] You came home from a bid a nigga was in your
And the whole time you your girl was celebate
[Can] Old old school
[Pras] You locked up and she need di-ick
[Clef] ride, just ride, ah just ride e'rybody just ride
Just ride in the hood, just ride, all my .. uh, ah ride

Yo physically I at a velocity
that'll your stopwatch if you clockin me
My concrete jungle is like
Iller what you seen in the cinema
A five foot eight, nigga with horsepower than eight cylinders
My brain of twin Pentium chips
the clock speeds of a 586
And nothin about my physical matrix is
I kick flavor beyond what your tongue is capable of
You'll be so surprised you won't your own eyes
It's like a Jamaican seein the snow for the first
Rhymes of a sort, that space and time
It's explainin color to a man that was born blind

Product

[Pro] Crimes on the street, come a lack of eatin
It's not my cup of tea, but I'll give them the
Motherfuckin
And if you still out I kick yo' ass tomorrow
Old school, old school (c'mon!)
[Pro] And if you still out here, I kick yo' ass
Old school, old school (c'mon y'all)
[Pro] like you buyin food but you buyin crack bottles

Ah ride, ah just ride
Everybody in the East ride
Ah just ride, ah just
Everybody in the just ride
Ah to the South, South
Yeah, yeah, yeah,
Ah ride