Luyện nghe bài hát Super Luv

Tamika

"Yo, what's up I'm Tamika Jones 'Keep it Real' Magazine, and I'm
about to enter the minds of two of the controversial rappers of
one of the underrated rap groups of all time, the Ultramagnetic
MC's. First, Kool Keith, why in your songs do you refer to the
words anal and rectum? And why do you always use the doo-doo and
pee-pee?"

[Kool

"Because that's what the fucking rap industry is.
Besides, I have other like gorilla, parakeet, giraffe,and
also.....monkey"

Your crew got high blood pressure, you still bite on pork
As I strike in your area, down close your shops
Your style is greasy, so what your hair is nappy
I wet your and tie your penis to the two train
Drag you down the tracks, paint like artifacts
With the rest of your crew, tied and with dog doo-doo
You know my trash are packed, lick my nut sacs
Emcees are wack, on the new smell like mildew
When you rhyme the mic from the socket and
You could never be classic, your rappin plastic
Gimmicks is your plan, strategy is your marketing
All that hard and look I'll get your ass kicked
Your steelo's undercover, corny on the real
Pistol like a bitch, get smacked by your pimp
Keep that mop down, just like album sound
So save that shit for Saturday
Everything is
You flop, no niggas bound to make my bop
Don't with me
Between your legs you sport a
Jones]

explain to me?"
"Holy catastrophe Kool Keith, that's fucking amazing! But I think
your fans will want to how you'll accomplish this. Can you
[Kool

With the A1 6600 detector
Y'all can't tap my shit, eavesdropping in the
Missiles dropped, your narrow hard stories flop
town, your staircase becomes a mental town
I'll throw grenades and your rectum out your fucking block
Your elevator stopped, your bubblegum sitting
Cover your peephole, wires bombs in your window
I so, your verbal shit wasn't fucking pro
Go flush your toilet, the bowl, see the fucking bomb
Iranian arab with muslim bells on my
Three seconds flat your fucking chest splatters in palm
bones, I stash bazookas in the chicken place
Uptown bronx with cheese traps for you fucking
My helmet's from haiti, at my house
Federal tax bullshit I light your estate
my nuts with dual tube night vision goggles
Raw in to (?), your asshole's tied to a milk crate
agents blew Waco Texas
Dynamite's packed in trunks, alarms on your
my dick for real, my 44 mag is steel
I'll you out there, your crew'll have grey hair

"Super luv, super luv, baby, super luv, superman, superman luv,
lane, luv, superman