Luyện nghe bài hát Orange Pineapple Juice

Hand me a little bit of umm, orange 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 Show, they get they P's and
ProfessaNots, get they P's and

Peep the maneuver, how the Heim-lich
I rhyme and you can get the duck, coon
I'm the shit, shit out of luck, tough
I'm the act to follow, kids like Ronald
Mac like Donald Goines, I change like coins
Choyoyoyyoyoyyng, choyoyoyyyyng,
I draw a like blood with the 'pint of' technique
And everybody be like, "YEAH!"
Cause cain't a nig dat'll say 'Whoomp, There It Is'
I'm like a mom on section 8, kids
they be like, "Com-mon!" That's my muhfucka (true)
Youse a hamburger, Fuddrucker
Askin me to let us catch up, knowin you cut the mustard
So the beef, jerky?
I'm as as James, not that good with names
But I do your face from someplace this is one taste
Of Chicago, we got mo' mo' many mo' many mo' flavors
Don't just to me, go ask thy neighbor-I'm-a-hood 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 like a finale
I'm back to Cali (why?) cause Cali 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 Side, we gotta 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 gotta on and
it "Now you can go!"

Mister Emcee, just 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 crew
My great, great, grandpap done been
So much in my hemoglobin to be a ill nigga
So I figure like a father... that Turn This Mutha Out
But Common you hittin in New York
I know what you thought hops, but chief I got tall props
Some cats think I'm six 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 titties saggin?"
Put your nipple to the bottle I bust like breastses
I can get down, d-d-d-down like
"Ring the Alarm", I got like a neck-a-lace
Tell the truth, tell the truth, had to move your neck to this
you, didn't you and it, and it, and it
And it don't stop, it