Luyện nghe bài hát Letters

"What are you to do?" (2X)
"Nigga!"
"The K the double-O the L the letters"
"My mic sound nice, one"
"The K the double-O the L the letters"
"Sound nice" (cut and scratched)

[Kool G.
Rougher than Gotti, in
Got a body harder than
Your girl got her boned
I'm diggin her down with my
It's Brown-er Bobby cause humpin is my hobby
Down in the end zone, with mens, that made her moan
Listen and learn and turn on your tuners if he
? ? I break, zoom, like Honeymooners
I don't want singers, but finger snappers, slappers
The wickeder rapper the dapper rapper's when I flap my
Got ass gassed by Amoco, you know you ain't man to go
up, head up, so I set up to slam a hoe
I don't give a heck, but I don't peck on a
You wanna pull cards, you're a deck, bed check
Lead my from tec, come and step up and get head red
Wait a sec, you comin to see left?
I gotta my breath, rappers slayed
or like Jeff to the left
And none of you nitwits can get this hit shit
You dipstics, Miss kiss, but no lipstick
I don't run a style but a mile to a child
Big ol snappy happy smile like Gomer Pyle
Hell, I'm ringin with a ding-dong
I play you ping-pong
You swingin on my King Kong
I pop bad cops, I got a pig a day
Bing bing BANG, just like the rapid
Grab it, your sound is just a lady baby, maybe
you're old as Grady, still in the 80's, metaphors in Haiti
I pop to the top, now the hip-hop pop rocks
Whenever it drops, I run over rappers at the shop
You name your best I'll say, who, owls
Pass me a towel, and move my bowels all over his vowels
Bring ten men, then send my venom in em
You ain't gonna win em cause he got a momentum
And I don't wanna hear from queer
Cause one of these niggaz doesn't belong here
My rhymes are the nine millimeter Beretta
Cause anything rappers could do yo I do it better

"The K the the L the G-R-A-P letters"
"My mic nice, check two"
"The K the the L the G-R-A-P letters"
"sound nice" (cut and scratched)

You slow toy, cheap thrills, no joy
My lyrical give me Pillsbury Doughboy
Back, I'm packin em up like the Ripper
Some I'm pullin the zipper
Finger popped, the the batter or flipper
You're out of date, you must be the Late Show, I those
on the brakes slow, uh-oh, better get Maaco
Dead-on, head-on collision, bad
You wanna see me nigga you better your vision
It ain't 20/20 money silly bunny your
ass'll get smashed just like a crash test dummy
Retire, an MC that Meyer could take
of you wacky rappers just play anyway
that's
So come and swing wild, mild child, and get your style
HEY HEY HEY! I say it's Fatter than Albert
Play at your own risk, if you diss, got a lotta hot
cold, better go and sip on some Swiss Miss
Inner city, actin like bitties, pussy
so here kitty kitty, get some milk from my hoe's titties
at the green not in between or get hit G
Red light, green light, one two
Out for the dash, but in the flash, you let me pass
crash, now that ass is in a bodycast
Everytime I put out my and tapes
Motherfuckers go bananas like this was Planet of the
Grapes I em like cherries and lay down, bitches purchase tickets
to ride the dick and sit down it like a
Down with the clowns actin like killers, as as wooden soldiers
See niggaz, you even Magilla Guerillas
Bass in your face, like mace
I'm bringin the right taste, like waist
up the pace