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 to get fresh y'all

Verse one: pack

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

Verse tash

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

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

Verse three: loot pack,

I'ma wreck the neck conducting props randy wrecker
The licka mega-hot mega-mike 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 and spit raps on the double
On and on to the beat I shop
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 like an old trooper
I to play football, now I'm into rockin
My rhyme is the tailback, the is the blockin
My name is j-ro and I've waitin for ages
To let the world know what I've been on the pages
I don't smoke sess it's on the west
Ok, I confess, I on the stress
I rip it I wreck it, when I mic check 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 still
The flavor funk, bringin diesel be the packer
A trooper loop, scoop you like a and smack ya
Like you stutter, I styles, I'm comin
The pack, tha alkaholiks keepin niggaz runnin

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

four: e-swift

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