Luyện nghe bài hát Turn The Party Out

Intro:

Yeah, tha
Ay j, I got a
They called the loot
And they can get crazy fresh y'all, crazy y'all
My man is about to get fresh y'all

one: loot pack

Check the flavor a rootin tootin hydraulic trooper
Tha alkaholik grouper in the and when I bust the hula-hooper
Peep my ish, when I flips next I flash with the jacker
A loot packer
Gettin versatile when I smile toastin to the
All punks put glass down, or end up in the trunk
You wonder when my dope styles sound kind of
The pictionary, man with my backpack, carey
Mariah took her back, and show her how I pack,
Kick lyrics on originally outtrack in fact
People me moody, I simply knocks the booty
Pull up my hoody, and then I bust a sam

Verse two:

Bitches on my woody 'cause I to get the loosest
I eat niggaz up and em down with deuce gooses
A colt .45 'cause I gotsta rush the
Tash from the group that the wanna get with
I kick it the east all the way to the west
Yes stay away from booze that puts the hair on chest
And that's a little of advice for the kiddos
I more flavor than your teacher got dittoes
I keep it up to date or take it back the twist
E-swift is out of so the pack load the disc
So, your ass home, good night, the party's over
If ass is drunk, ride home with someone sober

Yeah... tha alkaholiks, ah yeah, the loot
(the over, it's all over) nineteen ninety-three
And is how we kick it

Verse three: loot pack,

I'ma wreck the conducting props like randy wrecker
The mecca mega-hot mega-mike checka
me diesel to the easel, the weasel, the wacky
The packy, the rikki, tikki, the
One for the trouble, two for the
I gotta get snaps and spit raps on the
On and on to the beat I wreck
Scoop a rumplestil-skin I'm out, the brother with the clout
Be so dead on the loopa, the super-duper mic checka
I roll soul an old trooper
I to play football, now I'm into rockin
My is the tailback, the track is the blockin
My name is j-ro and I've been for ages
To let the know what I've been writin on the pages
I don't smoke sess rough on the west
Ok, I confess, I on the stress
I rip it when I wreck it, when I mic it
Brothers check the flav, the alkaholik record
While I flip styles, and rip styles, and hit
And hit piles for miles of styles, I still
The flavor funk, bringin diesel be the packer
A trooper loop, scoop you like a hula-hoop and ya
Like you stutter, I styles, I'm comin
The loot pack, tha alkaholiks keepin runnin

Runnin, yeah, do shit, yeah
Turn the out, yeah yeah
the party out, c'mon c'mon

Verse e-swift

You think that you can fade this, you must be out to
They call me e-swift, I'm from tha bunch
I just a brew, now check out one two
It's the liks baby rockin with the loot pack
Funky like con-funk-shun, more than stylistics
I got mo' beats magic's got assists so
Raise up off me, or get snatched by the
The party over till that fat bitch holler
I'm in the so check the way I flow
Niggaz say I'm fat, I say I know
But my ain't swoll, I stay down to earth
Never gangbang, never the turf
But I drink a gang of forties, nuttin wrong with that
Unless you go buckwild and bustin off your gat
*bang, bang

Ay nigga fuck that the over man!
Everybody get they get the fuck out