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, up, Shah?
It's the Ha drinkin' Mo' at the bar
after bakee, blunt after blunt
Smoke a bag of buhdah and became with the skunk
Nat King Cole was a old soul
Made you move that ab, drop shit from your
Grab a budjock and shot from the glock
You were told to swing off a tree a jump
Run up in attics and Elvis, now I'm
Back on the streets in the of P Long
Man oh man shots if I have to
Submit to me as your lord and
the Mighty Ha, I'm a street Bronx, I
Deliver the real like Walter
God I'm a destiny, man
Devil's in the receive the backhand

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

Be a none known and the Y, O, G
Make your moon walk, walk grab your ti ty
Hit you in the head with the to the back
Sport a of Balley's and a Mighty Ha hat
Comin from the Bronx KRS One
Electrify the crowd like shooting stone guns
Rhythem Cru, Violator, Def Jam
Known for tricken and smackin mad hands
Ahh, give a uh
Caught for the 17 to the shot
It's the Mighty Ha with the mic and the
My style's naughty what day is it ack?
Type of situation pops from
You can balls cause I front to be down
Til I lie rep a dollar kickin the to the Hiedy
Rhythem Blunt Cru, Chris Lighty

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

What!?
Chim, chim, chim, chim, che-ree
Comin from the top, ah, it's the ty
Hit you the felony and a misdemeanor
Hit a hundred push-ups and I got the spray
Got mad buttocks, ass cheeks, yo
Got more charges than a pac
I'm the maker, owner, of the crop
you erection to the top
I can't seem to get rid of these fuckin
to the mother drop dead brest fed
You better duck down when I my 8 luger
Scoop that ass quickie, better skin bag of

What goes on ya