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

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

(Intro: Ali)
it out, my name is Ali
I with them Lunatics
You know us, what I'm sayin'
But you might not know
Is we got a lot of MC's in St.
So we do it like this
up we got my man Jewely!!!

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

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

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

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

(Penelope)
Hot like fire, these niggas yearn
Don't be stressin' me dirty, you got to learn
How to keep these seven 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 want it all so me it
Am I a Luna-chic? Uh huh, I'm a looney
deadly than the venom that some anacondas spit
The Monroe, of the ghetto
I'm a for cornrows, niggas 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 face talkin' all
Old ass bullshit.

(Ali)
Up next, Kujo!!!

(Kujo)
Niggas hate me cause I'm nice in the
And got a style like ice in the chain
so who am I? I'm the best to ever spit
I got that, "Hot Shit" I'm Nelly and the Tics
I pop a hot block dodge the and the dics
Cause they want me gone, in the game 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 the 34, live in 3D
Southsiiiiiiide, hot boy like I'm
Spit the truth til I die, give a fuck you niggas of me
No matter the fuck you faggotts do
You get rid of me.

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

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

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

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

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

(Suga Chi)
Microphones I burn to whom it may concern with this
Gotta learn this is to all my
Them baby mommas Neons and Geos
they nigros to peep my steelo
In a ??? for war, suited and booted
dame, been the same, in the game
Since my Tenants had fat laces, faces
With (Ouch) intoxicated feel it bitch
You thrown out of clubs ever time you see me.

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

(Ali)
Iceberg!!!

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

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

(Foundation)
You never met a four, better metaphors
Metal for whores, like Tiger's metal
Shit, that's I met her for, strictly city
Thick mixed with Big Lee
Can't disturb, stand clap hands and swerve
For the spot where else should fix a hand or word
E-Perior bless, since we all wreck mic
You guess me on, Midwest be songs, and testin'
F with the best be gone, no
yard parties, fourty-four-four
Seventy and East, don't get it F in streets
Style shows sandals, pumps get handled
Dismantled, St. Louis is Soprano
No two, with blow poor, ghetto mo' gurr
Blow bolo get around the clock.

(Ali)
Up next, we got two live
My man Storm and his West Stone.

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

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

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

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

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

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