Luyện nghe bài hát Soundman

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes
Yo, Mr. Soundman, we would very appreciate it
(Yes indeed)
If you add a tad bit mids
And a little lows to the mic
(Word up)

I'm on mic number one, Prince is on mic two
(Yes, yes, yes)
A little bit more but right, right, right there,
One more, c'mon, uhh
(Recognize)
C'mon, right, yes, yes, right here, uhh, c'mon,

similar to the way I remember to be the Wordsmith
Pharoahe, God's to vocabulary
My personal be killin' me softly
I be packin' artillery, y'all feelin' me yet?

Props don't stop here,
I knock MC's out of a six-sided
My be tragedy to MC's
Who receive certificates rap academies

I'm terrific wordplay
(Wordplay)
Specific with verbs, say we it up to the next level
See if I God
Then all my is exclusively Lucifer

See used to the niggaz who would say devil right?
(Right)
But I ain't them, ain't me
(Nah, uh, huh)
With some bullshit rappin' degree
But let me you how we do it, duh, duh, duh

Done the disco fluid, duh, duh
But if it ain't loud
We tell the soundman, turn shit up, up, up
C'mon,

Yo, Pharoahe, up, hold up, check it
Let me myself
I'm Senor El Chocolate, creme de la creme, a la
Prince Poe, God's to vocabulary

Very visual, lyrical slide
Is spiritually projected, inside
Never to hide but to shine like diamonds mines
Let that ass marinate and Poe free flows basslines

I'm takin' elevatin' to
Plateaus, rippin' shows this cosmic sex
on CD's and cassettes and DAT's
(Now all rise)
Now who the Funk when it's time to Flex?
(Organized)

the Southside, spar chump MC's
Thinkin' they comp, but soon to get smoked like
I eat MC's of all kinds, out the rhyme
Regurgitate their 'cause I don't eat swine

Set it straight, online, internet programmed to
You might me in The Grind
Straight bumpin' a
Now let me you how we do it
(Yeah, yeah)

that old disco fluid
(Uh, huh)
And if it loud enough
Tell the soundman to turn shit up
Up, up, up
(Up, up)

If it, uh, it

(Turn me up now, ooh, ohh, yeah)
(Ooh, ooh, ooh, ohh, ooh, ooh)

V8, buck and a half on the dash
All weather Pirellis, the exterior is cash
Black Italian leather, Nakamichi system to
Full metal to the pedal we Organize on that ass

I last, amongst the mass, the cash
But in the fast before the stock market crash
Splash, five quarts of water fortified
First place to get partyin' on

In any club or on the corner in the box pops
In barbershops, ladies got with it in hoopties, in drop-tops
at love-love, fuckin' with this top-notch
Boombastic, dope now, fly gymnastics of passion

With verbal toxic, shit
(Daily, mmm)
The controller up in the cockpit
shit with my robotic optic
You fuckin' with this propher, who's too tropic? Stop it

(Hey, Mr.
Can you me, juice me up?)

I'm sendin' them in yo face, spinnin' them quick
Synonym blendin' them in wit', homynyms in
And by them wit', shit, whenever I spit
No need for me to go, get old hit, records to go wit'

Yo shit with absolutely no innovation
You and all your not clever
Y'all need to be that shit
You ain't bold black plans of schemes

And are so wack
Tracks are trash to me, actually
Your platinum plaque should go back to the factory
People wanna be like Michael and

Recyclin' when the wanna hear Fresh Material
From rap pros who Organize
Gettin' very intolerant at rap shows lactose
In fact those that act up get smacked

Backwards for so anti-climac, tic
any mack get, put on his back with
Lyrical utilized without practice

is how we do it, duh, duh, duh
(Yeah, yeah)
Done with the fluid, duh, duh
(Uh, huh)

But if it loud enough
Say if it loud enough
Say if it ain't enough
We tell the soundman turn that motherfuckin' up, nigga