Luyện nghe bài hát True Fuschnick

I don't wanna up cuz I'm a True Fuschnick
We got a million styles we compile
That we can with
I'm a True what? I am a True
3X
So sit Buddah sit what lyrical styles should we
I'm a rowdy roddy piper I flash my dread sherlock
The thicker the the bigger the dread
So I don't need no
So eeney meeney miney mo good goobelly goo I my toe
Oh-oh, "oh-oh better get Maoco" chocolate Chip's about to
The super the cola the fraja the expialadope Chip
When the mic is in ridobidobip bip da be bong de dang, Bo!
Cuz worries and boderations when i it up again and again But not
with the same FU style I'm wicked and and versatile
When the mic is gripped by Chip you believe it's worth your

Pause for the cause make way hurry up
Here I come come
My lyrical styles are not to nos in other words
They're not soft son rocks it raggamuffin say it backwards
Aggarniffum so Fu alacazam run come follow me man
Put it by one huminahumina I'm not done
Me-oh-me oh my hello hi
I'm not Finn I'm still speaking, shoo, fly
Don't i
So Fe hello hifi Fu fo, i make shapes Pay-dough re me
Near far then I will sew Lipton Tea bo Tae Kwon Do
are bubbling, bubbling, bubbling, bubbling, bubbling,
bubbling,*bubbling,*bubbling,*bubbling,*bubbling,*bubbling,*bubbling,
bubbling til' they're
So drink the milk, Why? Cause it's rotten in other words it's

So don't say drats, double or triple or quadruple drats
Me big and me black and me hot up de spot G Jehosphats
Some mic's ain't saying jack nor Jill
and of my styles peak-a-boo o what I
doo wa diddy dum diddy FU
So to his FU, peace to the FU
And a FU, Poc Fu, is what I dub you
I'm a True, I am a True Fuschnick
3X
So sit, Buddah, sit what lyrical styles we kick?
n' roll, rock'n roll!
What's up with hip-hop, reggae, kick some soul
I'll be a like Captain Caveman
Unga bunga,
oh, snap! Holy batfu, an apple
The capital P.O.C. is on a so hip, hip hooray
out my way
Check out what I doo
See true I needed psychiatric help
When I was I had "Poc-Fu" on my nameplate belt
at last suffering succotash I waste no more time
Used my noodle yankee doodle came up a rhyme
was wild, bugged, delirious, looney
Damn! it's hittin'
That's to Jerry Cooney
heads off shoulders rippin' em clean
you can ask iddy (why?) he know what I mean
Cuz I'm a
I'm a True, what? I am a Fuschnick
3X
So sit, Buddah sit what lyrical should we kick?
Moc's on wax grip, this no demo
Don't even try to flex or with my
Mental contender,
Time for training,
Agenda. The M.O. the Asian Mack
In fact I attract, shock shit, a True Fuschnick
as I crop to the crip
Not a to the limit, upset, confused,
you want
From the excess food called
But a taste of oriental Fu
No haste as I
gogoo, nanoo-nanoo
Styles that'll have you becomin' a too
Psyche!
a minute, you thought that I was finished
Beginnin' in a hum in a beat drum

You like it, comin' from the Tribe, side by side
Third is the Moc
Unifying lyrics until my tongue
Considered as an mc
Techniques could be beat, you so?
Hell, no!
Romp and rage upon the scene like a
master
Crazy zany out styles
had ya in a dimension as I mentioned
A Fu steppin'
All attention to the
Styles I am kickin', whippin', flexin, never flippin
Asian that is hard until my cup runneth over
Like a boulder told ya
The M.O. was in of
Oriental to compile or get with
Fiend as I hold the mic with a tight
Slipped!
Ha, ha, ha!
That's what you get when you mess around with a Fuschnick
I'm a True, what? I am a True
3X
So sit, Buddah, sit what lyrical styles we kick