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 jack is about to get fresh

Verse one: loot

Check the flavor here's a rootin tootin trooper
Tha alkaholik grouper in the and when I bust the hula-hooper
my ish, when I flips next I flash with the cracker jacker
A true loot
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 kind of varied
The pictionary, man with my backpack, I'll
Mariah took her back, and her how I pack, loot
Kick lyrics on originally outtrack in fact
call me moody, I simply knocks the booty
Pull up my hoody, and I bust a sam goody

Verse tash

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

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

three: loot pack, j-ro

I'ma wreck the neck conducting props randy wrecker
The mecca mega-hot mega-mike checka
Call me 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 raps on the double
On and on to the beat I wreck
Scoop a rumplestil-skin then I'm out, the brother with the
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 what I've been writin on the pages
I don't smoke sess it's rough on the
Ok, I confess, I puff on the
I rip it when I wreck it, when I mic it
Brothers check the flav, check the alkaholik
While I styles, and rip styles, and hit styles
And hit piles for miles of styles, I pile
The flavor flippin funk, bringin be the packer
A trooper loop, scoop you like a hula-hoop and ya
Like you stutter, I ribbedyribbedyribbedyrip styles, I'm
The loot pack, tha alkaholiks keepin niggaz

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

Verse e-swift

You think that you can fade this, you must be out to
They call me e-swift, I'm tha alkaholik bunch
I downed a brew, now check out one two
It's the baby rockin with the loot pack crew
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 ain't over till fat bitch holler
I'm in the house so the way I flow
Niggaz say I'm fat, I say I know
But my head ain't swoll, I stay down to
Never gangbang, never the turf
But I drink a gang of forties, ain't nuttin wrong that
Unless you go buckwild and start bustin off gat
*bang, bang

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