Luyện nghe bài hát Orange Pineapple Juice

Hand me a little bit of umm, orange pineapple
sip on it, check it out

I got a rhyme, you got a
But my rhyme is than yours
I got a rhyme, you got a
But my rhyme is better than

U-A-C, they get P's and
No I.D., be his P's and
The Late Show, they get P's and
ProfessaNots, they get P's and

Peep the maneuver, how the Heim-lich
I rhyme and you can get the duck, coon
I'm the shit, you're shit out of luck,
I'm the act to follow, housing kids like
Mac Donald Goines, flows I change like coins
Choyoyoyyoyoyyng, choyoyoyyyyng,
I draw a crowd like blood with the 'pint of'
And there be like, "YEAH!"
Cause near a nig dat'll say 'Whoomp, There It Is'
I'm like a mom on section 8, over-bearing
Shit they be like, "Com-mon!" That's my (true)
Youse a hamburger, I'mma
me to let us catch up, knowin you can't cut the mustard
So where's the beef,
I'm as as James, not that good with names
But I do remember face from someplace this is one taste
Of Chicago, we got mo' many mo' many mo' mo' flavors
Don't just come to me, go ask thy neighbor-I'm-a-hood niggas under
On the tundra, cause "they're plain, plain"
I'm on a that is fat so
It's a fan-tasy, for the fans to see
How I land, I'm grand like a
I'm goin back to Cali (why?) Cali got bitches check it
Aiyyo Dart this is a

Dee-da-da-da-doo-doo, dee-da-da,
Dee-da-da-da-DOO-doo, dee-da-da,
South Side, on and
The West Side, we rock on and
Hey yo Chicago, we gotta on and
The East coast, you gotta on and
The West coast, you rock on and
Ah down South, you rock on and
it "Now you can go!"

Mister Pussy Emcee, get on gone
Get on gone, you MC!
Steppin to me, with them feets you'll get defeated
Like Kunta Kinte, I'm kin to the Lynn
My great, great, grandpap done through
So much it's in my hemoglobin to be a ill
So I figure a father... that I'mma Turn This Mutha Out
But you ain't hittin in New York
I don't know you thought hops, but chief I got tall props
Some think I'm six feet I'm so deep
Some stunts be I'm six-fo', my shit be hittin like switches
Bitches, ask, why my, britches, sag
I ask the bitches, "Why your saggin?"
Put your nipple to the I bust rhymes like breastses
I can get down, d-d-d-down pessimist
"Ring the Alarm", I got Charm a neck-a-lace
Tell the truth, tell the truth, y'all had to your neck to this
Didn't you, you and it, and it, and it
And it stop, bust it