Luyện nghe bài hát Put Em Up

[** Beat: All the Way Turnt Up by Roscoe
Fiasco:]
Microphone check, I make em all
Every teller in of America, make em all count
You gone the whole staff to add up the amount.
Its gonna to pay me off to keep me out your house
To keep me in my so that I dont zone out
Im Rich and Po like Zone 4, is deep like Tone Loc
Walk with me like old folk, cross your street a scores
I dont rap, I rink cause my flow is so cold
I am on my mmhmm, are on they Oh, No!
I am in here, they aint real like Soul Glo
Dont you know Im so sho, n-ggas got no Glow
Find a fore you can come back into the dojo
Lupe got his right, n-gga this is my mic
And Ive come to it all back like Miller High Life
He must not be tied tight, back the wall,
He throw a ball, like he playin Jai Alai
Ill do the register, you get them fries right
I dont trust America, watchin Zeitgeist
Take a at my stripes, chest looks like a tiger arm
and Im hot as tiger balm, fire a five-alarm
And its set ya barn, Get ya fire-fighter on.
I aint worried bout you hoes, I dont need to roll
I turn down your ex how you put your tires on
I get these tires on, I buy a bomb and tie it on
And this around the entire song, find a line to drive it on
Park it a metaphor, wait for it, the timers on
You can turn your hydrants on, Ill just my wipers on
Wipe it off then wipe me down but forget about my bomb!