Luyện nghe bài hát Major League

Don't
So many the fame, but never see the day
When lyrically they could run, in the triple-a's
This here's the leagues, where big hits are guaranteed
The ken griffey turbo 850 mc
One more that cat defari
With a sting operation so blatant we call it
Man sign, independent on some
It's to shoot straight, innovate, and make the world realize
That mics get ripped, and spots get
I strive to be a golden state great, like j-ro
I gets burned when the technics on mix shows and mix tapes
That you hear when a car left on the street
You that shit that make you bounce
respect to rasco and evidence
Yo hold it on the mound
I'm not like hideo, don't got it
I'm more like johnson, guaranteed heat for sure

Yo this where the big hits are guaranteed
This ain't no league affair this here the major leagues
You in the batter's box for combat (what? )
But when you up to the plate better bring it fat

I spitballs and sliders, and hit batters with attitude
The signal's in, and my catcher's herut
I got to on the mound, talkin at pen-point
the side, put on a jacket, ice my joints
And parts, world-wide, evidence is known
Have you fallin out the box when curves are thrown
Precise angles, I disect the strategy, no
And just 'cause I choose to wander don't mean I'm
I got the jersrey, dilated written in cursive
I my heart to wax and put the in the open
Three men against nine players, yo, that shit's of
Plus my eyes are in takin' folks
One cat got on base but he learn his lesson
I to first and picked him off at second
Patience is a virtue, yo he couldn't
That out, time waits for no man
it

Don't
This where the big are guaranteed
ain't no minor league affair this here the major leagues
You in the batter's box for combat (what? )
But when you step up to the

It be the large caliber
Ask why try
Microphone rasco defari
Evidence, rhymes set the precedence
out the box, mcs to bobby sox
Major league, set to intrigue you fee
Nothin' to the game, we doused them small
Take
for the fence, we track prints
Track down the scent, then fold your whole
Stay
The illest on rhymes at all
your bullpen, rasco just pulled into the lot
Be strikin em out with one
While your pitch be the plate at one spot
the pipe
The major lieutenant that stripes
Bet strap in, cadet to
Stand up, better yet, put hands up
And watch the triple threat fuck them plans up
Smack niggas, with lyrical gems that hymns
still rappin 'bout clothes and car rims
Man
But dishin that corn, you get
We on supreme, you runnin on unleaded
match, you out the line-up, you been scratched
Sittin on the bench, not feelin you one pinch, in the
We loadin the guns to stack
from stackin ones to stackin them one-huns
Scored
The the bat, the more fat
dilated, ras, 'fari, we bust back
Like that, like that, like that, like
Like that y'all, that, check it

Yo this that the big hits are guaranteed
This ain't no minor league affair this here the major
You in the box ready for combat (what? )
But when you step up to the plate better it fat
Don't