Luyện nghe bài hát Blah Blah Blah

Get yourself together now because it's hit
known as the hit makers
Breaker breakers, party
They'll make your crack, your liver quiver
For all you cats, we're gonna put more dips in hips
More cut in your strut, more in your stride
If you don't dig that you gotta hole in soul
If you dig this mess, you came to the wrong address
Because might be loud and clear

[Brother
Ayo, the music made 'em jump
Fuck that, how y'all come tracks, some fat, without lettin Ali touch that?
Gun whack, his lips
You're not serious, I got few equals and no superiors (so he is)
A veteran, an ego reckon
I turn it up notch to keep the people guessin
ain't fuckin with the ox so put your feeble session
Double for the evening, so you heed the lessons

we go
Lookin at me they know me
Only bout as far as they ass can throw me
Do it, somebody's bound to catch it, no
Never that, we keep it basic like
So taste it, the vitamins are
So tighten up to Sluggo, try to decipher the puzzle
But up though
(Fuck that, sucka back)
I hold the game like Notre Dame, I know your
(We call her back), Ali run that

[Brother
cats lips to gods ears
We mind punk bastards and cross hairs
Applying our tactics till y'all scared
Don't till your drunk ass hits the back stairs (ohh yeah)

Fuck that, jump back, yo, what's
Drippin off her nuts, wait, why she got a nut
You fuckin rappers are
From the retail to the e-mail, the feet felt you need help

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Y'all to watch and observe and then follow
If we open for y'all it's our show
I hear the bullshit wherever I go
Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah

[Brother (Slug)
(Rappers to)
ah yeah they get their burned
I a roll of quarters and cyphers and then I get learned
(Yo I don't were you represent son, where's your chicks?)
We'll her out for breakfast if you want to let your lips run

Listen, I know your mission, type of magician that likes to go fishin
On the mic with air precision, the leaders in keeping tradition
when you ain't even keeping the rhythm that the DJ is
Calm down little camper, I've got the
You should fuck dancers
You should a pair of tits and some antlers
It doesn't matter, it up, what the fuck you think that amp's for?

Ali]
I write poems, write rhymes, write my in the snow
And I could use all of that to the frame of your ho
And I should but instead I'll pay the waiter and go
But if I didn't a wife, yo, your kids'd be albinos
Your respect is a stick in the grass
mugs and tree hugs, I'll go on about it
I wear my toilet paper so that can kiss my ass
with your out and write a love song about it

Write that shit inside of your book of funny little scribbles
The love comes in vomit, the comes in dribbles
The Minnesota missiles, self
communication, mutilation, holding pictures of sister naked

[Brother
Ha ha, You to to walk down the stairs
And now you're standing choking on my pubic hairs
Telling me your is if you think the brother cares

If you bumping your gums we can fucking take it there

(Brother Ali)
Yo Make a room full of bump stop and do the walk
(Rest those from a cop, and ask him who's your pops)
Who's you daddy, Fuck that, Jump and act happy
(Sing my fucking chorus I punch you in the face)

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