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 y'all
My man jack is about to get fresh

one: loot pack

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

Verse tash

Bitches on my 'cause I likes to get the loosest
I eat niggaz up and wash em down with deuce
A colt .45 I gotsta rush the likwit
Tash the group that the bitches wanna get with
I kick it from the east all the way to the
Yes away from booze that puts the hair on your chest
And that's a little piece of advice for the
I bust more flavor your teacher got dittoes
I keep it up to date or take it back like the
is out of town 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 pack
(the party's over, all over) nineteen ninety-three
And this is how we it

Verse three: pack, j-ro

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 on the double
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 wrecka mic
I roll soul an old trooper
I used to play football, now I'm into
My rhyme is the tailback, the is the blockin
My name is j-ro and I've been for ages
To let the world know what I've been writin on the
I smoke sess it's rough on the west
Ok, I confess, I puff on the
I rip it when I wreck it, when I mic it
Brothers check the flav, check the record
I flip styles, and rip styles, and hit styles
And hit for miles of styles, I still pile
The flavor flippin funk, diesel be the packer
A trooper loop, scoop you a hula-hoop and smack ya
you stutter, I ribbedyribbedyribbedyrip styles, I'm comin
The loot pack, tha alkaholiks keepin niggaz

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

four: e-swift

You think that you can this, you must be out to lunch
call me e-swift, I'm from tha alkaholik bunch
I just downed a brew, now out one two
It's the liks baby rockin with the loot crew
Funky like con-funk-shun, more style stylistics
I got mo' beats than magic's got so
Raise up off me, or get snatched by the
The ain't over till that fat bitch holler
I'm in the so check the way I flow
say I'm fat, everyday I say I know
But my head ain't swoll, I stay to earth
gangbang, never claim the turf
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 that the party's over man!
Everybody get they shit get the out