Luyện nghe bài hát I Shot Ya

Blaze one, word up!
blaze this one
No doubt! uh, it, check it, check it!
uh, uh, it, check it, check it!
I'm Uncle L, check it, it, check it!
The Trackmasters, it, check it, check it!
Now now, check it, check it, check it!
All my niggas now, check it, check it, it!
Yeah, we 'bout to serve one off nice, why'nah mean?
Word up, it!

I ya!
I'm splittin' brothers like a doctor
Ya fell asleep, the teeth got'cha
I drop ya down in acid
Ya like plastic, elastic, is drastic
Violations, vibrations, son
the hammer let the Uncle give 'em one
Done a flick of a wicked lunatic
puttin' hits on your clique, got'cha in turnin' tricks
You don't want to, I thought that you was bawlin'
Now watch 'cause I cock ya love, ya girlies
Uh, what's my Lyrical injection
niggas, hittin' 'em raw with no protection
I advantage
Ya me, I'm doin' damage
Ya me
The whole is dreary
MC's is wet up in the game
I meet you up in Memphis, just my name
I ya!

x2]
Ya to (uh)
Ya to (uh)
Ya to hit, give me a hour (uh)
a pen and a pad (uh, check it, check it, check it!)
I ya!

I ya! (uh)
I got ya strap to the
Trapped in a cagin, toe kissin' a
Ya mob's locked down the surface
Ya gettin' nervous for talkin' with no purpose
up, mind charmer, mad drama
What goes comes around, not around farmers
Silence, sh, very
and battle, let me add you to my medley
Possessin' power, takin' I can grasp
Go get it now, why you always dwellin' on the
Baby boys reminiscin' old shit
Young get dicked, LL rules the shit
a platinum fist, the relentless abyss
I take you to a land where piranhas to kiss
Massacre, mmuh, blowin' up the tour bus
Chuckin' the color outta cartoon
Ya get
Real recognize what my theory is
I ya!

I ya!
Word up, I'ma lace shit crazy, why'nah mean?
Word up, gonna blow the spot up, kid
No doubt it
Yeah, yeah, I ain't through, I ain't through, I through

Uh-uh-uh-oh, lookin' leery
Ya clique thought I fell off, they didn't to hear me
Oh really, now tell me how long you been whinin'
Sixteen years, million albums, yeah you're climbin'
I your joint 'Rock The Bells', it was mad hot
Ya record 'bout the Radio was up my spot
My girl was on your chip you flipped 'I Need Love'
backseat count set was mad butter, son
I loved your boomin' it was wicked as could be
You bad, now I'm writin' on pink cookies
And you had me screamin' 'Mama Said Knock Ya
Ya jinglin', baby, no
Uh, talk to me (what, what, uh, uh) a zombie, walk to me
a MC alive who fought with me
Why'nah mean? Man, it
Easy it
I pluck it like buzzards
I ya!

x3]

What, what, what, what,
Uh,
Why'nah This is how we gettin' down for crizzown
No diggity, I'm sayin'
Trackmasters lace me, why'know I'm
And I take of mines, why'know I mean'
it son!
Peace!