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

What's Up (Can We Rock)

Can we
Yeah, up doc?
Can we
up doc?

Cha cha cha cha cha
What's up pa, yo who
ma dukes or pa dukes?
There's two a raisin 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 Groucho
I make a joke, pokey, and slide by like egg yolk
Play me a punk like Penguin and the Joker
Snoopin' in my biz like Tom and Roker
So bust the freaky freaky ways
The with the Asian guise making G's
And now sellin' records overseas
Holy smokes, oops, your plan goofed up
Now you get kicks, licks, plus cuffed up
'cause you can catch a drop for tryin' to take 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 I saw a putty cat, I did
I did the humpty dumpty bashful grumpy nabisco crisco kid
'cause my figaro figaro figaro figaro like Pinochio's
Big Digital humpty dumpty camel hump nose
So dosey doe, sufferin' sucotash my mistletoe is gone
Snow White is after my seven dwarves, my styles, and after me Lucky
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 to get meaner
So ask Bob for hope, nope, not Mr. Bob
Oh were has my mic Tell me, have you seen her?
I stretch like a condom and gets plump like a
Or a sasuage, but of course it's, for Chip to wreck it
But before my 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, thanks and praises to jah
My lyrics are smooth like the on Terry Savalas
My tounge starts to like Speedy Gonzales
Take up your pen, your pad, your lyrical bag and run go whole a
Touche cat, put down that mic 'cause you can't rap
'cause I'm dip-dip-divin', so
Clean out your ears, yes, and open up your and
I kick like Bruce Lee and Jean Claude Van
So nana 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 of lyrical styles? yes the Schnickens can pick '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 manwitch, swingin' the ding-a-ling with damage
not antoinish nor monetego
Spanish like que for the nine two
Next, a new hex, commentators stand
Stringin' emcees like a or panty line (ha ha)
Nut you might bust, but you can't even come
Spite the strokin' or hopin' or a peace pipe
Huff and so what the fuck is happening?
On the lyrical, miracle,
but rockin'
Flip a new hit, catch wreck to the ship
Equipped, never slip with tounge
All my styles buckwild
No fake rap, I pounds
I flip mad and hips, I hit
So the goya oh boy-ah, as I say hasta manana
Soft and Honky Kong fooey, reggae not rasta tough stuff
Can I

I'm the hooper, the
by Viper
When I rock the yo, you'd better decipher
In other you'd better make a funky decision (whoo)
I'm a be a Shaq knife, and cut you with precision
Forget Tony Danza, I'm the
When it to money, I'm like Dick Butkas
Now who's the first pick? me, word is and
Not a Christean Laettner, not Alonzo
That's okay, not being
Supercalifragelistic, is alidocious
Peace, I go, I ain't no joke
Now I it (what?) jam it (unh)
And sure it's broke