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)

G. Rap]
Rougher Gotti, in tone
Got a body harder than
Your girl got her skins
I'm diggin her down my skintone
It's Brown-er than cause humpin is my hobby
Down in the end zone, with mens, made her friends moan
Listen and learn and turn on your tuners if he
? ? I break, bang zoom, like
I don't singers, but finger snappers, speaker slappers
The wickeder rapper the dapper when I flap my trapper
Got that ass 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 on a redneck
You pull cards, you're a dead deck, bed check
Lead my from tec, and step up and get your head red
Wait a sec, you comin to see what's
I catch my breath, rappers slayed
or played like to the left
And none of you nitwits can get with this hit
You dipstics, even kiss, but no lipstick
I don't run a style but a to bust a child
Big ol snappy happy rappers smile like Gomer
Hell, I'm ringin bells a ding-dong
I play you ping-pong
You swingin on my ding-a-long Kong
I pop bad cops, I got a pig a day
Bing BANG, just like the ricochet rapid
Grab it, sound is just like a lady baby, maybe
you're old as Grady, in the 80's, metaphors born in Haiti
I pop to the top, now the hip-hop glock pop
Whenever it drops, I run over at the record 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 win em cause he got a women's momentum
And I don't wanna hear from this
one of these niggaz just doesn't belong here
My rhymes are like the nine millimeter
Cause anything rappers could do yo I could do it

"The K the double-O the L the letters"
"My mic nice, check two"
"The K the double-O the L the letters"
"sound nice" (cut and scratched)

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You're out of date, you be the Late Show, I hate those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