Luyện nghe bài hát Orange Pineapple Juice

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

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

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, kids like Ronald
Mac like Goines, flows I change like coins
Choyoyoyyoyoyyng, choyoyoyyyyng,
I draw a crowd like blood the 'pint of' technique
And everybody be like, "YEAH!"
Cause cain't near a nig say 'Whoomp, There It Is'
I'm like a mom on 8, over-bearing kids
Shit be like, "Com-mon!" That's my muhfucka (true)
a hamburger, I'mma Fuddrucker
Askin me to let us catch up, knowin you can't cut the
So where's the beef,
I'm as Worthy as James, not that good 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 to me, go ask thy neighbor-I'm-a-hood takin niggas under
On the tundra, cause "they're plain, plain"
I'm on a that is fat so
just a fan-tasy, for the fans to see
How I land, I'm grand like a
I'm goin to Cali (why?) cause 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,
Side, rock on and
The Side, we gotta rock on and
Hey yo Chicago, we rock 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 Emcee, just get on gone
Get on gone, you MC!
Steppin to me, with them dirty feets get defeated
Like Kunta Kinte, I'm kin to the Lynn
My great, great, grandpap been through
So much in my hemoglobin to be a ill nigga
So I figure like a father... that I'mma Turn This Out
But Common you ain't hittin in New
I know what you thought hops, but chief I got tall props
Some cats think I'm six feet I'm so
Some stunts be thinkin I'm six-fo', my 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, like pessimist
"Ring the Alarm", I got Charm like a
Tell the truth, tell the truth, y'all had to move your neck to
Didn't you, you and it, and it, and it
And it stop, bust it