Luyện nghe bài hát Show & Prove

Hah hah, hey hey, laugh now
My man's right behind you, pull the trigger
I play, I'm from the hill where shit is real
And I'll be on your ass bugs on a windshield

So bring your grip or you can twice
'Cause I got more rhymes than a five bag of rice
I'm hitting hard, oh word, I'm gon' it
Once the shit drops, dough to the pocket

I cut hand, you still can't get no
You couldn't deal with Scoob if we was playin'
But if I got and it's time for code red
My drill is like a hoe, and be mad niggaz to bed
So up and skedaddle

Even if you join a army, you still couldn't
So you from? England, you somebody great?
You Scoob, "I don't think so mate"
I got the style gets you open like a bag of smoke

I your friends "Ah-hah man, that shit ain't dope"
me alone when I'm rocking on the microphone
and play like E.T. and phone your black ass
Yo Sauce, if you're with the groo-hoove
Get on the mic and won't ya and prove

Hey, here I come a slick rap, tic tac toe
When I flip tracks, so gimme my dick,
I flow to it and through it, if you ever to wonder
how you got dope like Sauce, money you do it

I write my own with bigger hope, drink of
Wrote what I figured, nope, you dig a nigga doe
Rhymes too drastic, bastard, hookers like elastic
N.B.A. style,
No to bite, but I just might, tonight I write left-handed

I like, to grab my dick with my right
Who could say that I don't get plenty play
Win Lose or Draw, I'm whores, anyway
As I get ready I'm if I go crazy I'd take Eddie

If I was Fred, I think I'd have to bone
Suckin' and luckin', hey, I'm duckin', nay
no never meaning ain't no motherfuckin way
Rappers get gassed on and get fast

Try to get when I blast, and you can hand over your ass
One line and that's
Rappers get so pussy they gotta go for a pap smear
So Shyheim, if your down with the
Get on the mic it's time to show and

Yo, yo, I spark the mic weed that's in a cipher
And I get girls open like a song by Tiger
So check me out, as I flip this track kid
And make mad noise like a record

I'm psycho, a to the styles I be killin'
When I'm thrusted, and all gets dusted
'Cause I rock the world from U.S.A. to to Russia
If your shit I'ma flush ya, then bust ya
Like a crazy man Cali son

My jams be packed like a rally, what?
You my style, I put the F in effin' foul
The Rugged Child locks you down like Rikers
And got more girls than a with Shabba

More Super Cat, I'm the punani Don Dada
So Big Daddy, if down with the groove my man
Get on the mic and ya show and prove

Now me whoooo is the man?
With the high-potent no rapper can ever stand
And steppin' to me, thinkin' I can be Huh
Not Michael Jordan'll gamble that much, yo

I get on it and give it to rappers
That even act like want it
I come for your kid, run it!
Or else get hit with the ultimate, too legit

Ahh yeah, that's that
lyrics on ya, strong as ammonia
That is I thrown ya, ya, Jones ya, I tried to warn ya
You was wack since I ya, fake as a cubic zirconia
What did I just show ya, lyrics doggone ya

Look inside my rap book at text my man
And see I got, more essays than the Mexican
The Messiah that's feared great, leavin' rappers in a state
Scared straight, for their fate

as an elephant, intelligent, compelling and elegant
So well in it with every element
And gets none! Huh
If I was wearing you still couldn't give me no run

I see the way trying to get to me
But with speech impediment, man you gotta come better G
You're hitting all the wrong switches troop begin
Mumble mouth rappers last a minute with

The non-resistable,
No no I'm not I'm the best
I'm just sayin I'm incredible!
And let's just make one more thing

if I fart on a record, trust me nigga it'll sound good
So Jay-Z, if you're with the groove, my mellow
Get on the mic it's time to show and

Uh, one checkin' it two, it three
Check out the J, out the A
out the Y, check out the Z, Hey G!
I'm breaking MC's up EPMD
And these nuts if you rappers ta see me

I'm with styles, ta-dow
I've in it runnin' a hundred miles I'm well endowed, baby gal
Uhh, the greatest nigga to touch it, you niggaz fuck with
The, skills of the G from Brooklyn, big up kid
And ain't no eatin me up, you fast with jigga

I'm like Prince jeans, I the ass out a nigga
When I rock it it's in the pocket, mop it don't knock it
Till you try it, once you start, you stop it
I'm the cocky breed, I'm dope poppy seed

I live one rent from that be
between get off my dick and jockin' me
When I bust a rhyme you're diggin' the
I know you lovin' the way it's, down baby
So Ason huh, if you're down with the groove, why ya
Get on the mic and show and

Come on, Wu-Tang killa on a swarm
Rain on your ass, disco dorm
when wet and don't you ever forget
You couldn't get a flick, of the outfit

Because the way that I this style mad wild
to make a crowd of women scream "Ow!"
Whether at a party or in bed
All thoughts on Ason, keep that in your

Yuh, my beats are and my rhymes are spunky
Sometimes I'll be "Well god damn what's the recipe?"
I know, I ask my momma she don't know
she says "Go ask you father!"
all about me in the place to be

Niggas thing they all that, yo, shit is G
Mad game and it's a motherfucking
How many enemies claim the name
Of Ason, who carries on like a
Yo sounds fly right