Luyện nghe bài hát Cop That Shit

[Intro: Missy
We are the VA
Love to the and the Clipse
To ya we breaking off both of ya legs
The underrated Maganoo, with the unexpected
The run away slave I,
from all ya fraudulent players
Last but not least, the champion, Mr. Mosley

1: Timbaland]
It's a long time, I shouldn't have left you
Without some little and nephews
To all the beats, and the rhymes I been through
Time's up, I left you
Thinking of this, I keep them hits
Like that Aaliyah, Timberlake, or Elliott shit (Shit)
As you sit by the radio, on the dial tone
As you hear it, pump up the
Jump when you hear them left it off (Off)
Mr. VA to set it off
Well I don't know you heard, and I don't know what ya know
Well my folks told me, (YOU GOT IT! Oh)
So, "Up Jumps the Boogie", let the record (Uh huh)
And put me on you red alert
'Cause the big bad Timmy, Maganoo, and Missy
THREE THE HARD WAY!, comin' straight out of Virginia

[Chorus: Missy
DJ's in the mix you better go to the record store and
COP SHIT! (Oh Lord)
And to the giving em bootlegs
We breaking off both of ya legs, COP SHIT! (Oh Lord)
Stop burnin' for ya friend and I'ma say it again, nucca
COP SHIT! (Oh Lord)
this the hot shit, out on the streets
So when you hear this CD go and COP SHIT! (Oh Lord)

2: Missy Elliott]
When you say you love me, it doesn't
It goes into my as just chit-chatter
You may I'm egotistical or just very free
say I go tell it to, TIMOTHY!
People say I'm whack, but don't tell me so
Let them pretend to be me, then they
I hate when one, to fantasize
Fact I despise, those who try
Sweat between my thighs {*sniff*} stinking
Yo is over, career sinking
I told all of you, like I told all of
say to me be, DICK TO YA CHIN!
In one ear and out the other
"Ayyio Missy you ugly!" ya mother
I pay attention, I don't concentrate
You ain't got the bait, that it takes to this, huh

[Verse 3:
I'm idol, the highest title, numero uno
I'm not a Puerto but I do look up to Vagil
And I got the gift of speech
And it's a blessing, being them VA streets
I talk condensed in the form of a poem
If I wasn't writing rhymes I'd be in homes
I'm kinda young, so my my security
I'm not afraid do what you gon do to me
I get paid your record is played
To put it short, heh I got it
I'm talented, yes I'm
My uppercut boy get ya lifted
You got cash? man stop
Living off every record that you cutting
My Magoo and I roll wit two stars
Every CD we split 48
My name and I'm a supadupa star
Every month I get a brand new car!