Luyện nghe bài hát Rhymes Too Funky Pt. 1

Who's all that damn loud-ass music out there?
(With the funky piano...) --> D
that shit down, man
Don't you know I'm tryin to get some here?
(With the funky piano...) --> D

What you
I'll go your goddamn head, man
If you don't put goddamn music down, man
(With the piano...) --> Chuck D
Woman, 911 to get these niggas off this goddamn street
I got to now

(Compton's in the house)
(Yeah)

[ VERSE 1: MC ]
Yeah, off suckers, it's me
You're stupid to take me for some punk MC?
I'm here to tax dollars, raps not
Compton's Wanted, punk, rollin four deep
Gats that I'm packin, sucker better put it
I'm slappin dumb girls cause my on hit
But on the smooth tip, kickin that
Had too much St. Ides, and throwin it up
Super lyricist, yeah, in fact
I'm sprayin all you fake MC jacks
Boy, I smack and rack and and stack
To smash all the sucker MC's in a attack
So (What's up?)
Tell these fools that they ran out of luck
(Hey yo Eiht) up?
(Boy, I you said enough)
Chill, I said shit until I call a punk's bluff
Put you on to punishment, Eiht is like your
Wanna beg? Sucker, don't
Last-place think you can handle this?
(1-2-3) Sock em smooth the canvas
It's time to start pumpin, what I'm sayin
Yeah, I got the picture, I the sprayin

[ 2: Tha Chill ]
Boy, hold up, Tha Chill's on the
C.M.W. is a Hub City army brigade
Give no to no plack or no punk new jack
Get like that because your rhymes are wack
So hit me with best shot, and boy, you see
How Tha Chill and the Eiht drop punk
But never due to you suckers that be fakin it
Call it a jack, but yo, I'm takin it
Your money, your gold, fortune, and your fame
So hang it up, you got no game
So just let up, I'm fed up
You're talkin trash, punk, shut up
Leave it to Tha Chill, yeah, I care of business
(That's bet, Eiht is the witness)
A super hype Compton cold chillin lyricist
a scary movie suckers play fearin this
In fact you're a pole in thick asphalt
But diss my down posse, yo, I'm the dogs
So just chill as Tha Chill
When it comes to over I know all the game
So suckers don't jock me like a backstreet
C.M.W.'s cold runnin it, rhymes too funky

C.M.W. - is you, man?
(Yeah!)
Keep on playin shit, man
I that shit, man
Woman, that 911 call
They ain't anyway, this is Compton
Man, that shit was gonna good in my T-Bird, man