Luyện nghe bài hát Link Up

[Intro: Producer & Mr WOT]
Jamma
Fresh Money
Yo, Dublin, big up yourself, you dun
Obviously, it
Crud!
Maud!

1: J.B2]
Man your mash and bop with a different sauce
And splash your cash, she bop the edible, oh
lights, see po-po
I don't know what do
cattin', uh, bueno
Fishing-fishing, lost,

[Verse 2:
Fuck-fuck yutes, they're irrelevant
Infected, they need
On sight 'ting, if you're from
One man up, way too
Slide with the like Harry, uh
Sexed on bae, no bally
Akhi, and yang, I been trappy
Fly then lick the shots in the

3: J.B2 & Crowd]
Michael twist up your neck
Chat again, man the neek
Arsenal, bro, cover Welbeck, run
Big man on the neck touched;
Na, uh-uh, can't settle-settle
Give up my tongue, Skittle-Skittle
Baby me, just jiggle-jiggle
Got the jeet and skeet tryna on pum

[Verse 4:
Michael Jack, moonwalk in the
Pretty face and a whole of butt
him up, tryna take out your guts
Boom-boom, bang, got two in the
Like, bro, was you thinking?
Back it out, now the yutes
Let 'em have it, let the sink in
Shoot, slap it off without

[Verse 5:
I don't even wanna talk too
All faggots know we put poles in dingers
I might get DS to back his shank or get big bro to his spinner
They don't see Loose in the cold, bro
Had them shook and them sprinter
How times have we run down Adz?
Got chased with shanks, some stupid
Got caught in the while sleeping
How the fuck can I call beefin'?
They don't want this index
Regz in the room so bitch ain't leaving
How many times did they up bro?
I backed my shank, don't me a reason
Wait 'til shh back on ends
Cah 'til he does; I stop creeping

6: J.B2 & Mr WOT]
Who's-who's that
You badder than us, you're shit
Kway-kway, up the spliff and lit
She just the sex, lick tit
me, daddy
When I bop her
Tryna nut it in
Finna ugh, no
I beef lick that, tryna get this teddy
Couldn't chit-chat

[Verse 7:
See the taking off so rapid
Back out my shank, then it's in jackets
And the gyal over there so
Opp's gon' cuff they come like faggots
I done slept in the cells no
Had to put all my in baskets
And they put all my food in
They done bag all my in packets
It's the life I live, where you see man complain
I ain't never seen YJ so gassed; made the grub disappear like David
like Remi done put out a diss track, then got straight on the rassclaat plane
It's got my head hurting so I gotta smoke the Mary Jane
Huh?
I shoulda better
I put holes in numerous tops so the pigs send home
I got 'round 'ere with a sawed-off dots, yeah say I'm a

Man J.Sav can't stop dipping
Mum's to go sew sweaters
get a mans top wetter
Opps doin' up letters
I trust no female, you can call me dome-getter
I got no feelings
So I'm out here breaking
I'm tryna get that target
Shank in your head like I'm darts

Mr WOT]
Crud!