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 yours

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

the maneuver, how bout the Heim-lich
I sick 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 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 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 Worthy as James, not good with names
But I do remember face from someplace this is one taste
Of Chicago, we got mo' many mo' many mo' many mo'
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 like a finale
I'm goin back to (why?) cause Cali got bitches check it
Dart 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 gotta on and
Hey yo Chicago, we rock on and
The coast, you gotta rock on and
The West coast, you gotta on and
Ah down South, you gotta on and
it "Now you can go!"

Mister Pussy Emcee, get on gone
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 been through
So much it's in my to be a ill nigga
So I like a father... that I'mma Turn This Mutha Out
But Common you hittin in New York
I don't know you thought hops, but chief I got tall props
Some cats think I'm six I'm so deep
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, d-d-d-down like
"Ring the Alarm", I got Charm like a
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 stop, bust it