Luyện nghe bài hát Woodstock (hoop Hop)

M.O.P.]
Hahaha... they think they rid
We definitely got to give the drummer (c'mon!)
(c'mon!) M.O.P. (c'mon!)
(c'mon!)

[Joell
H-E- (what?) L-L-O, I'm one of a show
I'm the best, you in the middle like L-M-N-O
I'll piss on you, let toxic elements go
All you is fucked, call me now celibate Joe (ay!)
Ay Slaughterhouse, let's go "Ed Sullivan Show"
I literally can't front, I'm back never befo' (oh!)
I'ma rap my to hoes
Dear prostitute, I y'all lettin me slap my head on your nose
Where the fuck is my guitar? It of went far
Oh yeah, I it on homie head in that Brook-lyn bar
Man I'm somewhere in between a crook and a
Had some more but I left my rap book in the car (yo yo yo yo yo)

M.O.P.]
Yo, that Woodstock hood hop!
up if you fuckin with it
We Brooklyn (c'mon!) Jersey (c'mon!)
Long (c'mon!) Detroit (c'mon!)

I]
Geah, spaz out, knock a ass out
Knew he had a paper thin chin and a glass
West shit, seven-deuce glass house
Got a (Lil' Fame) so me and my (Posse Out) (ohh!)
I ain't got a degree
the Circle of Bosses, the Slaughter's in me - pardon me G
I just wanna fuck your and flee
And leave all that married in the background like I'm Father MC
Ha ha, cocky, but don't be a
you see me rockin that, L.A. Kings hockey hat
I'm the king of L.A., do you copy
It's for some change like Obama in a laundry-mat

Da 5'9"]
Do y'all want problems us? I guess not
Broadcastin live from a pot
The steeets that we nice, try your best shot
Speech in ice, dialect's hot
(c'mon) get cool
Beef in big shoes, gun talkin repetitive call it
You ain't never of me mami you excused
I don't only dudes
You sleepin on us, that's what it is - just
that I gettin a wink of sleep 'til you lookin at the back of your lids
I'm a lyrical ounce of
Still countin chips, for real mami, Slaughterhouse in this {"BITCH!"}

[Joe
Look, I'm not a gang-banger, more like game
with tamed anger, lover name changer
to pop at kids and aim flamers
I'm why your parents told you not to strangers
Dope get it, top notch, flow
Best out, don't me it's no spitters
So vicious on the road to
From now on call me Mr. Weiss, they chasin all of your old
From the hood New Jersey and I claim
Oxymoron, rob with the dirty and
Cock back, saddity so I keep the top back
So when the streets is watchin, I could back

[Chorus - 2X]