Luyện nghe bài hát Lisa Lipps

Run for the cue

Lisa
Was a Stone, huh
Yeah, wherever she slap slob wasn't
And now she's gone, no sun
Shine she's gone

Hum do a lah, that means, What up,
It's the Ha drinkin' Mo' at the bar
after bakee, blunt after blunt
Smoke a bag of buhdah and bitche's with the skunk
Nat King Cole was a old soul
Made you that ab, drop shit from your whole
a budjock and lick shot from the glock
You were told to swing off a tree from a
Run up in and Elvis, now I'm gone
Back on the streets in the of P Long
Man oh man lick shots if I to
Submit to me as lord and master
It's the Ha, I'm a street Bronx, I
Deliver the like Walter Chronkite
God I'm a destiny, man
Devil's in the receive the backhand

Yesterday, my seems so far away
So help me Wanda, help, help, me

Be a beast known and the Y, O, G
your moon walk, spin walk grab your ti ty
Hit you in the head with the broom to the
Sport a of Balley's and a Mighty Ha hat
Comin the Bronx like KRS One
Electrify the crowd like shooting stone guns
Rhythem Cru, Violator, Def Jam
Known for tricken lyrics and mad hands
Ahh, don't a uh
Caught for the 17 to the shot
It's the Mighty Ha the mic and the glock
My buck naughty what day is it ack?
Type of situation from uptown
You can lick balls cause I to be down
Til I lie rep a kickin the Willies to the Hiedy
Blunt Cru, Baby Chris Lighty

Ponies ran before
Rain never
Til I met you
And I can't get of your love, babe

What!?
Chim, chim, chim, chim, che-ree
Comin from the top, ah, it's the ty
Hit you with the and a misdemeanor
Hit a hundred and I got the spray Alenor
Got mad buttocks, ass cheeks, yo
Got charges than a Nicachew pac
I'm the maker, owner, cream of the
Felicha you to the top
I seem to get rid of these fuckin chickenheads
Word to the mother drop dead fed
You better duck down when I draw my 8
Scoop that ass quickie, better bag of booty

What goes on ya