Luyện nghe bài hát Soundman

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes
Yo, Mr. Soundman, we would much appreciate 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 to the way I remember to be the Wordsmith
Pharoahe, God's to vocabulary
My personal soliloquies be me softly
I be packin' artillery, y'all feelin' me yet?

Props don't stop here,
I knock MC's out of a figure
My strategies be to MC's
Who certificates from rap academies

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

See y'all used to the niggaz who say devil right?
(Right)
But I ain't them, they 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 enough
We tell the soundman, that shit up, up, up
C'mon,

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

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

I'm elevatin' to next
Plateaus, rippin' shows with this sex
Love on and cassettes and DAT's
(Now all rise)
Now who masters the Funk it's time to Flex?
(Organized)

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

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

With that old disco
(Uh, huh)
And if it loud enough
Tell the soundman to 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 exterior color is
Italian leather, Nakamichi system to blast
Full metal to the when we Organize on that ass

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

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

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

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

I'm sendin' them in yo face, spinnin' quick wit'
Synonym blendin' them in wit', homynyms in
And by embalmin' 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 mens not
Y'all need to be told that
You ain't black plans of promotional schemes

And scams are so
are trash to me, nigga actually
Your platinum plaque should even go back to the
People wanna be Michael and when

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

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

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

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