Luyện nghe bài hát Turn The Party Out

Intro:

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

Verse one: pack

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

Verse two:

on my woody 'cause I likes to get the loosest
I eat niggaz up and wash em down with deuce
A colt .45 'cause I rush the likwit
Tash from the group that the bitches get with
I kick it the east all the way to the west
Yes stay away from booze puts the hair on your chest
And that's a piece of advice for the kiddos
I more flavor than your teacher got dittoes
I keep it up to date or take it 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 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

three: loot pack, j-ro

I'ma wreck the conducting props like randy wrecker
The mecca licka 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 shop
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 like an old
I used to football, now I'm into rockin
My rhyme is the tailback, the track is the
My name is j-ro and been waitin for ages
To let the world know what I've writin on the pages
I don't smoke sess rough on the west
Ok, I confess, I puff on the
I rip it when I it, when I mic check it
Brothers check the flav, check the record
While I styles, and rip styles, and hit styles
And hit piles for of styles, I still pile
The flavor flippin funk, bringin be the packer
A trooper loop, scoop you like a and smack ya
you stutter, I ribbedyribbedyribbedyrip styles, I'm comin
The loot pack, tha alkaholiks keepin niggaz

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

Verse four:

You think that you can fade this, you be out to lunch
They 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 pack
Funky like con-funk-shun, more than stylistics
I got mo' than magic's got assists so
up off me, or get snatched by the collar
The party over till that fat bitch holler
I'm in the house so 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, claim the turf
But I drink a gang of forties, ain't nuttin wrong with
Unless you go buckwild and bustin off your gat
*bang, bang

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