Luyện nghe bài hát Testarossa

I'm your Testarosa. First
me go, keep 'em in fear
Rumble, man rumble
Brother won't fumble, muthafukas crumble
Gaskets crank, rappers get
get yank, a superior rank
Won't stop the jock in some car use a lyrical radar
But I'm rolling, the cartel's
For the D's folding
Most rappers get look and disturb
By the jet black
Me, the Testarosa running it suppose ta
Don't try to get
Cause you might get lost in the dual
Don't ever try to fuck a boss
High octane ain't no ping
I swing on a lyrical speed king
And that's just first gear, listen for the
Who can get wit'
I'm your

Second gear, look it queer
I'm in here, hitting spears
The rhyme cartel slings dope
Some cope, get (gunshot noises)
Lost on the boss, it's finish is
12 listen to the horses
It accelerates
Move or else get
Run for my brother, suckers are getting smothered
I? you other? smutters? rammed in the gutter
My rep is kept, must step
The best get and let out to rest
Huuuu, look at air intake
Second gear, fakes
per lyric get higher
How can I chill when my rhyme's on
As I approach the end of my
My lyrical horse power to the max
Red line is reached to the of my speech
And I told ya, I'm your

Gear number three, get off the clutch and let 'em up
Keep 'em all down on these bucks
Let 'em know big is just a bit quicker
Get the
tolerated none, son
Left you at the gun I hit gear one
Now I'm in third and you think that's
Huh, wait I hit fifth
Me and my pack, we keep of snackpacks
You fat now I'm yo to the max
Want Mix-A-Lot for next attack
Hey, yo, mass, yea, I got your gat
Two hundred pounds of pure pain
Critical mass is my homeboy's
My personal trainer, taking gainer
Got the bulk to crush and ya
On the tach, I'm a wind ax
Cutting up air like aircraft
Time to and let my lyrical seatbelt hold ya
I'm Testarosa

Up to gear, the speed increase
Police got wit the word chief
Move or lose, I excuse the dudes
You my fuse and clear out or get used
I go 100 in a 55
No need to lip synch, I'm straight out
So I'm lust who wanna be tough
You fuss and cuss that Raider's stuff
Fake fools from the way
damn well, you ain't from LA
Ashamed where you come son, so you rattle
it or not, I scream straight up Seattle
Rip up streets wit a lyrical
Don't peep or creep or you lose freak
The cam's growl, loud
My tongue beating 'em down
Rev it up, get for fifth
Just hit 'em wit a dis
I roll ya, fold ya, mold ya, I ya I control ya
And I'm Testarosa
I'm your
Yo Punish, 'em what time it is