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

What's Up (Can We Rock)

Can we
Yeah, what's up
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
Brothers try to rally up, then dilly dally for some
peckin', doulbe deckin', rubber neckin' in my tomb
Check it out yo, I smile Groucho Marx
I a joke, hokey pokey, and slide by like egg yolk
Play me like a punk like Penguin and the
in my biz like Tom and Roxie Roker
So the freaky freaky freaky ways
The brothers the Asian guise making G's
And now we're records overseas
Holy smokes, oops, your whole plan up
Now you get kicks, 'nough licks, cuffed up
'cause you can catch a quick drop for tryin' to the Schnicks' props
So tick tock around the clock and shock while we shots
(Boom!) for goodness sakes the are high
I'm out (you out?)
ABC-ya, bye

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

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

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