Luyện nghe bài hát Turn The Party Out

Intro:

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

Verse one: pack

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

Verse tash

on my woody 'cause 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 from the all the way to the west
Yes stay away from booze that puts the hair on chest
And a little piece of advice for the kiddos
I bust more than your teacher got dittoes
I keep it up to or take it back like the twist
E-swift is out of town so the pack load the
So, take your ass home, good night, the party's
If your ass is drunk, ride home someone sober

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

three: loot pack, j-ro

I'ma the neck conducting props like randy wrecker
The mecca licka mega-hot mega-mike
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 beat I wreck
a rumplestil-skin then I'm out, the brother with the clout
Be so dead on the loopa, the wrecka 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 and I've been waitin for ages
To let the world know I've been 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, the alkaholik record
I flip styles, and rip styles, and hit styles
And hit piles for miles of styles, I pile
The flavor funk, bringin diesel be the packer
A trooper loop, scoop you like a and smack ya
you stutter, I ribbedyribbedyribbedyrip styles, I'm comin
The pack, tha alkaholiks keepin niggaz runnin

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

Verse four:

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

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