Luyện nghe bài hát Major League

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

Yo this that where the big hits are
This no minor league affair this here the major leagues
You in the batter's box ready for (what? )
But when you up to the plate better bring it fat

I throw and sliders, and hit batters with attitude
The in, and my catcher's 'fari herut
I got to risin on the mound, talkin at
Retire the side, put on a jacket, ice my
And parts, world-wide, evidence is known
Have you out the batter's box when curves are thrown
Precise angles, I disect the strategy, no
And just 'cause I choose to don't mean I'm lost
I got the button-up jersrey, dilated written in
I spill my to wax and put the in the open
Three men against nine players, yo, shit's unheard of
Plus my eyes are in takin' folks
One cat got on base but he didn't learn his
I faked to first and picked him off at
is a virtue, yo he couldn't understand
That cat's out, waits for no man
it

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

It be the caliber rhyme
Ask why try
Microphone slash rasco
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 flames
names
Head for the fence, we prints
Track down the scent, then fold whole tent
Stay
The illest on rhymes at all
Call bullpen, rasco just pulled into the lot
Be em out with one shot
While pitch be hittin the plate at one spot
Down the
The lieutenant that earn stripes
Bet strap in, cadet to
up, better yet, put them hands up
And watch the triple come fuck them plans up
Smack niggas, lyrical gems that sayin hymns
Niggas still rappin clothes and car rims
Man
But dishin corn, you get spreaded
We on supreme, you runnin on unleaded
match, you out the line-up, you been scratched
Sittin on the bench, not you one pinch, in the trench
We loadin the guns to funds
Went from stackin ones to stackin them
runs
The the bat, the more fat
It's dilated, ras, 'fari, we bust
Like that, like that, that, like that
Like y'all, like that, check it

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