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 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 bout the
I rhyme sick and you can get the duck,
I'm the shit, you're out of luck, tough
I'm the act to follow, housing kids Ronald
Mac like Donald Goines, flows I change like
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, over-bearing
Shit be like, "Com-mon!" That's my muhfucka (true)
Youse a hamburger, Fuddrucker
Askin me to let us catch up, you can't cut the mustard
So the beef, jerky?
I'm as Worthy as James, not that with names
But I do remember your face from 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 takin 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 like a finale
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,
Side, rock on and
The West Side, we rock on and
Hey yo Chicago, we gotta on and
The East coast, you rock on and
The West coast, you rock on and
Ah South, you gotta rock on and
it "Now you can go!"

Mister Pussy Emcee, just get on
Get on gone, you MC!
Steppin to me, with them dirty feets you'll get
Like Kinte, I'm kin to the Lynn crew
My great, great, grandpap done through
So much it's in my hemoglobin to be a ill
So I figure like a father... that I'mma This Mutha Out
But Common you ain't in New York
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 shit be like switches
Bitches, ask, why my, britches, sag
I ask the bitches, "Why titties saggin?"
Put your nipple to the I bust rhymes like breastses
I can get down, d-d-d-down like
"Ring the Alarm", I got like a neck-a-lace
the truth, tell the truth, y'all had to move your neck to this
Didn't you, you and it, and it, and it
And it don't stop, it