Luyện nghe bài hát Soundman

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

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

Sorta similar to the way I remember to be the
Pharoahe, God's to vocabulary
My soliloquies be killin' me softly
Still I be packin' artillery, feelin' me yet?

Props don't here, nigga
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)
with verbs, say we step it up to the next level
See if I God
Then all my competition is Lucifer

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

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

Yo, Pharoahe, hold up, hold up, it
Let me myself
I'm El Chocolate, creme de la creme, a la cheddy
Prince Poe, gift to vocabulary

Very visual, every lyrical
Is spiritually projected, forever
Never to hide but to shine like inside mines
Let that ass marinate and Poe flows over basslines

I'm takin' to next
Plateaus, rippin' with this cosmic sex
Love on CD's and cassettes and
(Now all rise)
Now who masters the Funk when it's time to
(Organized)

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

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

With old disco fluid
(Uh, huh)
And if it ain't loud
the soundman to turn that 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 color is cash
Black Italian leather, system to blast
Full to the pedal when we Organize on that ass

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

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

With verbal toxic, shit
(Daily, mmm)
The controller up in the cockpit
Lock shit with my robotic
You ain't fuckin' with this propher, who's too tropic? it

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

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

Yo shit with no innovation whatsoever
You and all your mens not
Y'all need to be told that
You bold black plans of promotional schemes

And scams are so
Tracks are to me, nigga actually
Your plaque should even go back to the factory
wanna be like Michael and when

Recyclin' the fans wanna hear Fresh Material
imperial rap pros who Organize
Gettin' very at rap shows like lactose
In fact niggaz that act up get smacked

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

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

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