Luyện nghe bài hát Orange Pineapple Juice

Hand me a little bit of umm, orange juice
I'mma sip on it, 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, get they P's and

the maneuver, how bout the Heim-lich
I rhyme sick and you can get the duck,
I'm the shit, shit out of luck, tough
I'm the act to follow, kids like Ronald
Mac like Donald Goines, flows I 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 they be like, "Com-mon!" my muhfucka (true)
a hamburger, I'mma Fuddrucker
Askin me to let us catch up, knowin you can't cut the
So the beef, jerky?
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 takin niggas under
On the tundra, "they're plain, they're 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 back to Cali (why?) cause got bitches check it
Aiyyo this is a sickness

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 rock on and
The East coast, you rock on and
The coast, you gotta rock on and
Ah down South, you gotta on and
it "Now you can go!"

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