Luyện nghe bài hát Testarosa

I'm your Testarosa. gear
Watch me go, 'em in fear
Rumble, man rumble
Brother won't fumble, just crumble
Gaskets crank, rappers get
Stripes get yank, a rank
Won't stop the jock in some American car use a lyrical
But I'm rolling, the tolling
For the D's keep
Cadillac rappers get look and disturb
By the jet blur
Me, the Testarosa running it suppose ta
try to get closer
Cause you might get lost in the dual
Don't ever try to fuck a boss
High there ain't no ping
When I swing on a lyrical king
And that's just first gear, listen for the
Who can get wit'
I'm testarosa

Second gear, look it here
I'm in here, like spears
The rhyme cartel slings legalized
Some cope, get (gunshot noises)
Lost on the boss, finish is flawless
12 cylinders to the horses
It smooth
Move or get move
Run for cover my brother, suckers are getting
I ?cutted? you other rammed in the gutter
My rep is kept, muthafukas step
The get swept and let out to rest
Huuuu, at that air intake
Second gear, fakes
Revolution per get higher
How can I chill when my rhyme's on
As I the end of my tach
My horse power blows to the max
Red line is reached to the peak of my
And I told ya, I'm Testarosa

Gear number three, get off the and don't let 'em up
'em all down on these young bucks
Let 'em know big boss is a bit quicker
Get the
tolerated none, son
Left you at the gun when I hit one
Now I'm in third and you think quick
Huh, till I hit fifth
Me and my pack, we plenty of snackpacks
You fat now I'm yo to the max
Want Mix-A-Lot for next attack
Hey, yo, critical mass, yea, I got gat
Two hundred pounds of pure pain
Critical mass is my homeboy's
My personal trainer, taking weight
Got the bulk to and contain ya
On the tach, I'm like a ax
Cutting up air Boeings aircraft
Time to shift and let my lyrical seatbelt ya
I'm your

Up to fourth gear, the speed
Police got beef wit the chief
or lose, I excuse the wack dudes
You light my fuse and out or get used
I go 100 in a 55
No to lip synch, I'm straight out live
So I'm lust who wanna be tough
You fuss and wearing that Raider's stuff
Fake fools around the way
Knowing damn well, you ain't LA
Ashamed where you come from son, so you
it or not, I scream straight up Seattle
Rip up streets wit a sweet
Don't peep or creep or you lose your
The cam's growl, engine
My tongue beating 'em down
Rev it up, get ready for
Just hit 'em wit a dis
I roll ya, fold ya, mold ya, I told ya I ya
And I'm your
I'm your
Yo Punish, show 'em time it is

number five, you're eyes get wide
So realize that I survive and I for mine
I rope the dope and is he up, nope
I ain't the so don't hope for my throat
There it is, the whiz his
The word quiz is it is and Mix don't give
Sight to the wack who act Max
And try to a pop rap to hit the map
That ain't like me, it ain't
To rob another them claim you rule
You boot but not me, troops, you like
So you hit the wearing my boots
Uh ,uh cupcake, I ain't about to get by fake
Just look at the tail light shrink and think
How I left you in a lyrical kink
Time to drop to my gears and then
I lock the box on them clowns that jock
Turbo is 230 up on ya
I'm your (3x)