Luyện nghe bài hát Turn The Party Out

Intro:

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

Verse one: pack

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

Verse two:

Bitches on my woody I likes to get the loosest
I eat niggaz up and wash em down with deuce
A colt .45 'cause I gotsta the likwit
Tash from the group that the bitches get with
I kick it from the 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 bust more flavor than teacher got dittoes
I it up to date or take it back like the twist
E-swift is out of town so the pack the disc
So, take ass home, good night, the party's over
If your ass is drunk, ride home someone sober

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

Verse three: loot pack,

I'ma the neck conducting props like randy wrecker
The mecca licka mega-hot 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 raps on the double
On and on to the I wreck shop
Scoop a 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 used to 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 what I've been writin on the
I don't smoke sess it's 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
I flip styles, and rip styles, and hit styles
And hit piles for of styles, I still pile
The flippin funk, bringin diesel be the packer
A trooper loop, scoop you like a hula-hoop and ya
you stutter, I ribbedyribbedyribbedyrip styles, I'm comin
The loot pack, tha alkaholiks keepin runnin

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

Verse four:

You think that you can fade this, you must be out to
call me e-swift, I'm from tha alkaholik bunch
I downed a brew, now check out one two
It's the liks baby rockin the loot pack crew
Funky like con-funk-shun, more style than
I got mo' than magic's got assists so
Raise up off me, or get snatched by the
The party ain't over till that fat holler
I'm in the so check the way I flow
Niggaz say I'm fat, everyday I say I
But my head ain't swoll, I stay to earth
gangbang, never claim the turf
But I drink a gang of forties, ain't nuttin with that
Unless you go buckwild and start off your gat
*bang, bang*

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