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' in Cali? El Caminos on toners
Hotel Nico Mona, weed from Pamona
And any ghetto this St. Louis nigga on the corner
My persona known to leave rappers in a
So faggotts stop the grinnin', them chrome reflect
The hate in your face as you see em
MC's are screamin', "No mo' shoutouts" nine innin's
I'm drama, two baby mommas and one pendin'
This here rapper split up your vest, cause the shit I'm Dawg'll
knock your 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, representative
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 with a dime right!
in my ear about menage a trois
Us and her partners, El Passe panties and
deaky baby I'm lovin' that
Dig the way that you think, your partners?
Get them a drink, shit one was strippin'
Cause she didn't get picked, but
We roll time, it's only rippin' the six, trick
Minutes later nigga four deep
bitches tonguin' in the back
I'm some head up in the frontseat
She like, "I got this" you the cockpit
While her in the back sixety-ninin' tradin' cock spit.

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

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

(Ali)
Up next, Kujo!!!

(Kujo)
Niggas hate me I'm nice in the game
And got a priceless like ice in the chain
so who am I? I'm the best to ever spit
I got that, "Hot Shit" like I'm Nelly and the
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 with nigga
We two, got work? I comp too
one, we pop two
For the love for my family, and my
Makin' sure them records live on, now until infinity
I'm the 34, live in 3D
Southsiiiiiiide, hot boy I'm Figi
Spit the truth til I die, a fuck you niggas sick of me
No matter what the 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 pounds to break in the basement?
What you know bout chances Air Course
Suitcases and pretty out in Lambert Air Port?
What you know bout losin' count cause there's so many
How many can say shit like this
But there's truth in the
you know bout clicked up nigga? Out the country whilin'
How many you niggas done had pussy from the Virgin
What you know bout broad beggin' to be my mama?
Lunatics and Skunk dick player up in
What you know bout mo' bail? We like Brutis
Come for them, and my clique's all exclusive
you know bout Spanish 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)
Mr. B-double-O-G what? M-A-double-N
I smoke joke and grin, and fuck your best
Only if she a ten, I slide right in
Boogee and DJ Spin, be and lightenin'
Damn that's frightenin, so your vest in
My Mack-10, spit flows that kill men
It's the y'all, we aimin' at all y'all
We the ball til we fall or nothin' at all
So just warm up the water, cause we Blink Trotter
Half-baked half slaughter, comin' like Vince
How you want it or cut? We in the back of the truck
Tryin' to see if baby girl can make me bust nut
Cause I'm 24 inches above the gun
Get hoes deep, so you pack yo heat.

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

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

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

(Ali)
Iceberg!!!

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

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

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

(Ali)
Up next, we got two MC's
My man Storm and his home' 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 niggas and he from St. Lou
Plus he know Kung-Fu, and he got too
That big dick dude, that flip kick like Tom Cruise
You don't battle me dude you gon' lose
Hit you one-two's, your lungs bruised
My foot in the butter so crews call me doo-doo shoes.

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

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

(Goobee Thug)
We gon' get two recline and lean harder
X, smoke green, and buy the spring
Y'all niggas polish your jewels to bling
I cock the fifth, drop your shit
Type of nigga rob you to cop the
me, on 23's with a boxter-twist
See the rocks twinkle right 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 stays blowin' and that Chocolate Thai
Y'all smoke swag weed brown with seeds in it
I hustle from to first through seasons
And you accept this, I ball like the Celtics
A. Walker, you up
And I have Ted to make you up.

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

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