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

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

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

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

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

(M.K.)
You knew what time it was soon as you in the door
gigglin' and pointin', and whisperin', "There he go!"
Where he go? Me I be loungin' the ice
Sippin' Don P with a dime right!
Whisperin' in my ear about a trois
Us and her partners, El Passe and bras
Freaky deaky baby I'm that
Dig the way you think, them your partners?
Get them a drink, shit one bitch was
Cause she get picked, but baby
We roll with time, it's only rippin' the six,
Minutes later rollin' four deep
Them tonguin' in the back
I'm gettin' some head up in the
She like, "I got this" you control the
While her partners in the back sixety-ninin' tradin' spit.

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

(Penelope)
Hot fire, makin' these niggas yearn
Don't be stressin' me dirty, you got shit to
How to keep these seven zeroes that's my only
Put a torch to these hoes, make these bitches
Stern, as I handle my grit, talk mo'
Spit, and let my fo-fo rip, so bitch slip
Don't me put a lump on your lip
A dip in your hip, I'm snatchin' your
I want it all so me it
Am I a Luna-chic? Uh huh, I'm a bitch
More deadly than the venom that some spit
The Marilyn Monroe, of the
I'm a for cornrows, niggas in Timbos 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 talkin' all
Old ass bullshit.

(Ali)
Up next, Kujo!!!

(Kujo)
hate me cause I'm nice in the game
And got a style priceless like ice in the
so who am I? I'm the best to ever spit
I got that, "Hot Shit" like I'm and the Tics
I pop a hot block the cops and the dics
Cause they want me gone, been in the too long
Here's how you it, you come with guns nigga
We cock two, got I comp too
one, we pop two
For the love for my family, and my
Makin' sure 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 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, you know bout high-grade we wastin' it?
What you know bout 76 pounds to break in the basement?
What you know chances enough Air Course
Suitcases and pictures out in Lambert Air Port?
What you know bout count cause there's so many stacks?
How many niggas can say shit this
But truth in the tracks?
What you know bout clicked up nigga? Out the whilin'
How many you niggas done had pussy from the Virgin
What you know bout your broad to be my mama?
and Skunk dick player up in Trulany
What you know bout mo' We brolic like Brutis
for them, everyday and my clique's all exclusive
What you know bout Spanish Town? the gun clappers
Buff they penis soup 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 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 that's frightenin, so tuck vest in
My lyrical Mack-10, spit flows that men
It's the Midwest y'all, we aimin' at all
We the ball til we fall or it's at all
So warm up the water, cause we Blink like Trotter
Half-baked half slaughter, comin' like Vince
How you want it head or We in the back of the truck
Tryin' to see if baby can make me bust this nut
Cause I'm 24 inches the gun creek
Get these deep, so you pack yo heat.

(Ali)
What up Up next representin' V.I.P.
King 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 swervin' Neons and
they nigros to peep my steelo
In a ??? ready for war, suited and
Undisputed dame, been the same, in the
Since my had fat laces, smack faces
With Tipsy (Ouch) intoxicated it bitch
You gettin' thrown out of clubs time you see me.

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

(Ali)
Iceberg!!!

(Iceberg)
It's the the player that keeps it duplicated
Or faded in no type of way, hate it if you
But you can't us gettin' paid
you sabotage the stage, or drop us in a place we stand
And then you to worry bout your whole state
We made it now the legacy's more
Style be raw, heaven or hell
I'll stay forever
Catch me down baby, in a black Humvee
to get my fuckin' corner back for Nelly, (E.I.!)
My fuckin' sales were barely, (Uh Ohhhhhhhhh!)
Now nothin' they can tell me
What I do is too late, for the Louie
See how you fools respond to these frees
Bigger Big Lee released all these
And everytime we do what's million ???
And come to answer their question of how come
Gon part of this Alumni nigga

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

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

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

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

(West Stone)
You know is known to break them bones
Meet your and take her home
Get one and make her moan
And you wonder why these hate the Stone
Broke their backs, I wrote the raps
Nigga don't drink I'll to that
Niggas hopin' that, I'll a bow
Want to take my life? Better it now
I'm still alive let me break it
Turn this 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 recline and lean harder
X, smoke green, and buy the water
Y'all polish your jewels to bling harder
I cock the fifth, y'all your shit
Type of rob you to cop the whip
Catch me, on 23's a boxter-twist
See the twinkle twinkle right in front of your eyes
I brighter than the sun in the skies
Got a gun on my waist, got one in eye
And I stays haze and that Chocolate Thai
Y'all smoke swag weed that's brown with in it
I hustle from to first through seasons
And you gotta this, I ball like the Celtics
A. Walker, you up
And I Ted Foster to make you up.

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

(Fister)
I'm the man before time, hands before time
Like Don I made The Land Before Time
Some MC's they're nice, but not hardly
what they "Say Say Say" like Paul McArtney
And Jackson, I cypher the action
To anyone who 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, snatchin' your soul
Your squad's useless, the right arm on Bob Dole
Behold, the manifold of a black
Roadkillin' MC's, with my hand on the
em all, mashin' em all, bashin' em all
Picked up my check cashin' em all