Luyện nghe bài hát Turn The Party Out

Intro:

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

Verse one: loot

Check the flavor here's a tootin hydraulic trooper
Tha grouper in the house and when I bust the hula-hooper
Peep my ish, when I flips next I with the cracker jacker
A true packer
versatile when I smile toastin to the funk
All put your glass down, or end up in the trunk
You wonder when my dope styles sound of varied
The pictionary, man my backpack, I'll carey
Mariah took her back, and show her how I pack,
Kick lyrics on originally outtrack in fact
call me moody, I simply knocks the booty
Pull up my hoody, and then I a sam goody

two: tash

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

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

Verse loot pack, j-ro

I'ma wreck the neck props like randy wrecker
The mecca licka mega-mike checka
Call me diesel to the easel, the weasel, the
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 I wreck shop
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 rhyme is the tailback, the track is the
My name is j-ro and I've been waitin for
To let the world know I've been writin on the pages
I smoke sess it's rough on the west
Ok, I confess, I puff on the
I rip it when I it, when I mic check it
Brothers the flav, check the alkaholik record
I flip styles, and rip styles, and hit styles
And hit piles for miles of styles, I pile
The flavor flippin funk, diesel be the packer
A trooper loop, you like a hula-hoop and smack ya
you stutter, I ribbedyribbedyribbedyrip styles, I'm comin
The loot pack, tha keepin niggaz runnin

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

four: 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 downed a brew, now check out one two
It's the liks baby rockin with the pack crew
Funky like con-funk-shun, more style stylistics
I got mo' beats than got assists so
Raise up off me, or get snatched by the
The party ain't over that fat bitch holler
I'm in the house so the way I flow
Niggaz say I'm fat, everyday I say I
But my ain't swoll, I stay down to earth
Never gangbang, never claim the
But I drink a of forties, ain't nuttin wrong with that
Unless you go and start bustin off your gat
*bang, bang*

Ay nigga fuck the party's over man!
Everybody get shit get the fuck out