Luyện nghe bài hát St. Louis Alumni (Bonus Track)

* Jewely, M.K., Penelope, Kujo, Mic Checker, Boogee Mann, Chi,
King Jacob, Iceberg, Foundation, Storm, West Stone, Thug & Fister

(Intro: Ali)
Check it out, my is Ali
I roll with them
You know us, know what I'm
But what you might not
Is we got a lot of in St. Louis
So we gon' do it this
up we got my man Jewely!!!

(Jewely)
Now what's a grand
If you ain't drinkin' grams in Cali? El Caminos on
Hotel Nico with Mona, weed from
And any ghetto catch this St. Louis on the corner
My persona known to rappers in a coma
So stop the grinnin', them chrome rims reflect
The hate in your face as you see em
MC's are screamin', "No mo' shoutouts" nine innin's
I'm drama, like two baby mommas and one
This here rapper split up your vest, the shit I'm packin' Dawg'll
your heart out your chest
Rappers suffer from cardiac
If I'm uncomfortable I a few
You niggas are like, I won't send em to the afterlife
is Judah Zor, a hard act to follow
Murderous nigga, known as desperado.

(Ali)
Up next, Hillsdale
My M.K.!!!

(M.K.)
You what time it was soon as you stepped in the door
Bitches and pointin', and whisperin', "There he go!"
Where he go? Me I be between the ice
Sippin' Don P a dime piece right!
Whisperin' in my ear about a trois
Us and her partners, El panties and bras
Freaky baby I'm lovin' that
Dig the way that you think, them your
Get them a drink, shit one bitch was
she didn't get picked, but baby
We roll time, it's only rippin' the six, trick
later nigga rollin' four deep
Them bitches tonguin' in the
I'm some head up in the frontseat
She like, "I got this" you the cockpit
While her partners in the back sixety-ninin' tradin' spit.

(Ali)
Up next, we got that hazel-eyed
Fo' Reel, Penelope!!!

(Penelope)
Hot like fire, makin' these yearn
Don't be me dirty, you got shit to learn
How to these seven zeroes that's my only concern
Put a torch to these hoes, make bitches burn
Stern, as I my grit, talk mo' shit
Spit, and let my fo-fo rip, so bitch slip
make me put a lump on your lip
A dip in your hip, I'm snatchin' shit
I it all so give me it
Am I a Luna-chic? Uh huh, I'm a looney
More deadly the venom that some anacondas spit
The Marilyn Monroe, of the
I'm a sucker for cornrows, in Timbos hey
(I got old mama, let me, let me, can I hit that?)
Oh Lord, nigga (C'mon mama let me hit that)
Get the fuck on out of my talkin' all that
Old ass bullshit.

(Ali)
Up next, Kujo!!!

(Kujo)
Niggas hate me cause I'm in the game
And got a style like ice in the chain
Aiyyo so who am I? I'm the best to spit
I got that, "Hot Shit" I'm Nelly and the Tics
I pop a hot dodge the cops and the dics
Cause they want me gone, been in the too long
Here's how you want it, you come guns nigga
We cock two, got work? I too
one, we pop two
For the for my family, and my seed
sure them records live on, from now until infinity
I'm from the 34, in 3D
Southsiiiiiiide, hot boy I'm Figi
Spit the til I die, give a fuck you niggas sick of me
No matter what the you faggotts do
You get rid of me.

(Ali)
Peace, to my cousin Trife, up
The one and Mic Checker!!!

(Mic Checker)
St. Louis, what you bout high-grade we wastin' it?
What you know bout 76 pounds to down in the basement?
What you know bout chances enough Air
Suitcases and pretty pictures out in Lambert Air
What you know losin' count cause there's so many stacks?
How many niggas can say like this
But there's in the tracks?
What you know bout clicked up nigga? Out the country
How many you niggas done had from the Virgin Islands?
What you know your broad beggin' to be my mama?
and Skunk dick player up in Trulany
What you know bout mo' We brolic like Brutis
Come for them, and my clique's all exclusive
What you know bout Town? Amongst the gun clappers
Buff they soup head still on my red snapper.

(Ali)
One love to
Naw you know, up Boogee Mann!!!

(Boogee Mann)
Well Mr. B-double-O-G M-A-double-N
I smoke joke and grin, and your best friend
Only if she a ten, then I slide in
and DJ Spin, be thunder and lightenin'
Damn that's frightenin, so tuck your in
My lyrical Mack-10, flows that kill men
It's the Midwest y'all, we at all y'all
We the ball til we fall or nothin' at all
So just warm up the water, we Blink like Trotter
Half-baked half slaughter, comin' like Carter
How you want it head or We in the back of the truck
Tryin' to see if baby girl can make me bust nut
Cause I'm 24 above the gun creek
Get these hoes deep, so you yo heat.

(Ali)
What up Up next representin' V.I.P.
Jacob and Suga Chi!!!

(Suga Chi)
Microphones I burn bitches to whom it may with this
Gotta learn this is to all my
baby mommas swervin' Neons and Geos
Cause they to peep my steelo
In a ??? ready for war, and booted
dame, been the same, in the game
Since my had fat laces, smack faces
Tipsy (Ouch) intoxicated feel it bitch
You gettin' thrown out of clubs time you see me.

(King Jacob)
Uugh, everybody to be street
they bring the most heat
And swear to God ain't sweet
I agree, but I feel I ain't got to prove shit
To do it to them punk ass niggas your click
I fuck hoes that be so thick, when I roll you this
And them twenty inch chrome rims sit so
shit for communication, this is to aid my flows
Take over the nation.

(Ali)
Iceberg!!!

(Iceberg)
the nigga the player that keeps it duplicated
Or faded in no type of way, it if you like
But you can't stop us paid
Unless you sabotage the stage, or drop us in a place we
And then you have to worry your whole state
We it now the legacy's forever more
be forever raw, heaven or hell
I'll forever S-T-L
Catch me down down baby, in a black
Comin' to get my fuckin' back for Nelly, (E.I.!)
My fuckin' sales were barely, (Uh Ohhhhhhhhh!)
Now there's nothin' can tell me
What I do is always too late, for the
See how you fools respond to these frees
Bigger Big Lee all these beats
And everytime we do what's million ???
And to answer their question of how come I-C-E-B-G
Gon become part of this Alumni

(Ali)
All the way the Cle-Town we got my man E
(Louie Town) Foundation!!!

(Foundation)
You never met a four, better metaphors
for whores, like Tiger's metal four
Shit, that's what I met her for, strictly
cliques mixed with Big Lee
Can't disturb, stand clap hands dance and
For the spot where nobody should fix a hand or word
E-Perior bless, since we all wreck mic
You me on, Midwest be songs, and testin' Jones
F the best be gone, no quest-ion
yard parties, fourty-four-four
Seventy and East, don't get it F in streets
Style like sandals, pumps get handled
Dismantled, St. is Tony Soprano
No two, with blow poor, ghetto mo' gurr
Blow bolo get around the clock.

(Ali)
Up next, we got two MC's
My man and his home' West Stone.

(Storm)
You can't fuck with Storm, six niggas in the truck Storm
You want to jack him, but you won't got no luck Storm
My dirty run dirty niggas and he from St. Lou
he know Kung-Fu, and he got guns too
That big dick dude, that flip fools like Tom Cruise
You don't wanna me dude you gon' lose
Hit you with one-two's, lungs bruised
My in the butter so many crews call me doo-doo shoes.

(West Stone)
You know Stone is known to break them
Meet your chick and her home
Get one chick and make her
And you why these niggas hate the Stone
Broke their backs, I wrote the raps
Nigga don't drink I'll to that
Niggas hopin' that, take a bow
Want to my life? Better take it now
I'm still alive let me break it
Turn shit to the O.K. Corral
Get to blastin', asses
Forget that talk shit, I'm the action
Want to make it hot? I'ma the heat
Ain't no that can hang with me.

(Ali)
Up we got Goobee Thug
The spitter!!!

(Goobee Thug)
We gon' get two seats recline and lean
X, smoke green, and buy the spring
Y'all niggas your jewels to bling harder
I cock the fifth, y'all drop your
Type of rob you to cop the whip
Catch me, on 23's a boxter-twist
See the rocks twinkle twinkle in front of your eyes
I shine than the sun in the skies
Got a gun on my waist, got one in eye
And I blowin' haze and that Chocolate Thai
Y'all smoke swag weed brown with seeds in it
I hustle from first to first seasons
And you accept this, I ball like the Celtics
A. Walker, you up
And I Ted Foster to make you up.

(Ali)
Up next from the Crew
My Fister!!!

(Fister)
I'm the man before time, move hands time
Like Don Bluth I made The Land Time
MC's think they're nice, but not hardly
That's what they "Say Say Say" like McArtney
And Michael Jackson, I the action
To who assists like John Packson
Who these kids they is tryin' to act all wild
They temporary members of Destiny's Child
I'm spottin' the top Feds, poppin' the hot
All in his pothead, makin' him drop
me Shanksoon, lyrically snatchin' your soul
Your squad's useless, like the right arm on Bob
Behold, the manifold of a Aristotle
Roadkillin' MC's, my hand on the throttle
Smashin' em all, em all, bashin' em all
Picked up my Friday cashin' em all