Luyện nghe bài hát What's Up Doc? (Can We Rock)

What's Up (Can We Rock)

Can we
Yeah, up doc?
Can we
What's up

Cha cha cha cha cha
What's up pa, yo who
Your ma or pa dukes?
There's two scoops a in the sun
try to rally up, then dilly dally for some room
Bird peckin', doulbe deckin', neckin' in my tomb
Check it out yo, I smile like Marx
I a joke, hokey pokey, and slide by like egg yolk
me like a punk like Penguin and the Joker
Snoopin' in my biz like Tom and Roxie
So bust the freaky freaky ways
The brothers with the Asian guise G's
And now we're sellin' records
smokes, oops, your whole plan goofed up
Now you get kicks, 'nough licks, cuffed up
'cause you can catch a quick for tryin' to take the Schnicks' props
So tick tock around the clock and shock while we shots
(Boom!) for goodness the stakes are high
I'm out (you out?)
ABC-ya, bye

I thought I saw a cat, I did
I did the humpty dumpty bashful grumpy nabisco crisco kid
'cause my style's figaro figaro figaro like Pinochio's
Big Digital Underground dumpty camel hump nose
So play dosey doe, sucotash my mistletoe is gone
White is after my seven dwarves, my styles, and after me Lucky Charms
So leprechauns, be glad I'm pushin' my pedal to the metal
I'm rugged and rough for Cocoa Puffs, and yes, I my Fruity Pebbles
So howdy, my partner, I starts to get
So ask Bob for hope, nope, not Mr. Bob
Oh were has my mic gone? Tell me, have you her?
I stretch like a condom and gets plump like a
Or a sasuage, but of course it's, time for to wreck it
But before my I gots to check it
So who is the nicest in your
Lyrics are merry, merry, contrary, and Captain Crunch berry good
So rah rah, sis bah
Chip Fu is coming again, thanks and praises to jah
My lyrics are like the head on Terry Savalas
My tounge starts to quicken like Gonzales
Take up pen, your pad, your lyrical bag and run go whole a fresh
Touche pussy cat, put down mic 'cause you can't rap
I'm dip-dip-divin', so socializin'
Clean out ears, yes, and open up your eyes and
I kick Bruce Lee and Jean Claude Van Damme
So nana nana nana nana nana, Batman!
I hip-hop,
Don't-don't,
I'm harder than a Flinstone and much bigger a Chub Rock
Our types of styles? yes the Schnickens can pick 'em
I burp, 'em, ha ha ha, stick 'em

Rippin' the program, man, hot damn
I grand slam, swingin' again and again (whoo)
Golly ha-chooey, macho Roscoe
Savage manwitch, swingin' the ding-a-ling with damage
Pauish not nor monetego
like que for the nine two lingo
Next, a new hex, commentators aside
emcees like a bikini or panty line (ha ha)
Nut you might bust, but you can't even right
Spite the or hopin' or pullin' a peace pipe
Huff and puff so the fuck is happening?
On the lyrical, miracle,
but rockin'
a new hit, catch wreck to the nine ship
Equipped, never slip with tounge
All my styles that's
No fake rap, I push
I mad scripts and hips, I hit
So bring the goya oh boy-ah, as I say hasta
Soft and chewy Honky Kong fooey, reggae not rasta stuff
Can I

I'm the hooper, the
Protected by
When I rock the hoop yo, you'd decipher
In other words you'd better make a decision (whoo)
'cause I'm a be a knife, and cut you with precision
Forget Danza, I'm the boss
When it comes to money, I'm Dick Butkas
Now who's the pick? me, word is born and
Not a Christean Laettner, not Mourning
That's okay, not being
Supercalifragelistic, Shaq is
Peace, I gotta go, I ain't no
Now I it (what?) jam it (unh)
And make sure it's