Luyện nghe bài hát Family Reunion

[Intro - BH - talking]
Uh oh!
It's time again
It's been too
family reunion
We got to y'all to the game (IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT?)
You know what talk to 'em (HUH?)
Let's go (IS WHAT YOU WANT?)

[Joe Budden - behind Killa BH]
Uh
Mic check, mic
Check, one two, one two

[DJ On - talking]
Y'all already know what it is (y'all already know what time it is)
Family (family reunion)
(Ransom), Hitchcock (Hitchcock), Fab (Fab), let's go

[Joe Budden - behind DJ On Point]
The is out niggaz, uh
Get 'em boy

[Verse 1 -
Ain't tryin to rap or play me
I'll be at they with a couple hammers and a black old AV
Black gonna pay me, get the smack off Baisley
Cause I'm touchin more diesel than Shaq old
Boy, you did it, I done it, I get it, I
The shit that I with'll separate a rib from a stomach
I'm the boss, when I spit it, you it
Matter fact, I'm a Viking, I need a village to plumage
Yeah, the is here, the city is scared
You got the throne? Then I I need to sit in your chair
We could really get here
And the sky's the limit nigga, I put whole clique in the air
Baby, so quit playin, the clips spray 'em
And have his MIA Nick Saban
His whole caved in, my whole clique cavemen
Hard bodied nigga, my whole pavement
You spit if you dead in the ground
In the woods, your head'll be found
And it's that you gettin it now, in the precinct confessin it now
I can't fuck with the rest of you clowns,

2 - Hitchcock]
High in the silence the storm
Lincoln Park, the
Slang rock on the same block that the on
I be more than gone, run and get your form
Next time I a song, gon' put my daughter on
Cause she than most niggaz
I triggers, for you broke niggaz and gold diggers with no figures
That why I the heater, for all you non-believers
I'm on your ass white on Rice, I'm Condoleezza
con the preacher, you tryin to get on a feature
Better get your casket (why?), I'm gon' eat ya
We ain't in the same weight
fake ass, couldn't stop a nigga with brake pads
I'm way past, anything that you did
I'm better kid and we never a bid
It's to get a cig
In the bing, I'm Ving Rhames, I bring pain
I sling off the wing like I'm King James
Y'all doubtin
When I spit the whole lead, they be callin Red, like Mountain Dew
I count to two, you could get your back blown (OH!)
Cause your out of minutes like a TracFone (NIGGA!)
Get back homes, I'm on my shit
I don't mingle, I'm like Pringles, stackin my
Clappin my fifth, you the 'test me
Comin out with a "Blade" to get sniped
So the cops could arrest me, right? not happenin
You ain't ever gonna get on, so rappin
(H20) comin summer, so stop askin
All heat like Wall Street, stock crashin
Now the Feds want to his rights
Lord have mercy, Jesus Christ, I got
I'm black and all my gettin this 'feti
We in the Chevy and to pop tags and (what? OH!)

[Chorus - Joe - w/ ad libs]
So whatever you tryin to do niggaz (niggaz), I already done (done)
And since you want to live by it little (nigga), then die by the gun (gun)
See you tryin to do little nigga, I've already done (done)
So how the fuck you win little nigga (nigga), I've already won (won)

[Verse 3 -
we always do it, d-d-damn
Yes (yes), go (yes), uh huh
Aiyyo, money is the root of all evil I
But when I'm broke is usually when I the evilest thoughts
That's the arms come out, like sleeves when it's short
With more bullets than your wide receiver has caught
And that Randy Mossberg, ya Smith & Wesson ya
Your shoes pop up like Instant
You've got mail, naw you got shells
And my Mac, you can't use for
I've got that, confused that lie flat
And my gat is on leg like tat
I that nigga, who you
Some broke who tryin to get some youtube views
So 'less you a point blank, boy you're too close
Bail's in pocket, this is Lou Los
I'm pretty sure more hotties seen me in that four door
Double pipes like a sawed off shotty,

(IS WHAT YOU WANT?)

4 - Joe Budden]
Look, I flow sickly, ridin, old Biggie
Roll with me or lose weight, Richie
Fuck plat, if I don't reach diamond
I treat a nigga's face the old Simon game
out why men try us
Cause we OD on rims and tires, for that we Len Bias
All it takes is a
He ain't brave, he a
I'll put his family in boxes, meet the Brady
How feel yourselves?
Should kill yourselves, us Cowboys don't you, you Bill Parcells
And you ain't got to empty your pockets the K's out
Whatever you holdin is mine, you my
See I get how this guy is a threat
I make his inept for a pie to the neck
or die, if you both nigga, ride to the death
I acappella the left side of his chest
Not retirin, got that pension pendin
Tryin to pop the hood and see the engine
Double barrelled shotgun, your men get missin
She got pretty brown and she in mint condition
Oh the cig in the car, you en moi
Take the ratchet go home and Chris Benoit
I tell a bird it is, you promise the broad
I one her (you), you Isiah Thomas the broad
I could send a clique cartridge at a target
And a ROR on some Jena 6 charges (naw)
Naw, I'll put thing away
I don't even need a hairdo to flip 'em, all it take is one finger wave
Been in the bing for days, show you how I'm
Come home to the with the Optimus Prime grill
out crack, got the scene poppin off
They not sleepin on 'em, the is noddin off
For real, tell me how you a and you Superman (nigga)
I seen you in the club doin the Superman (nigga)
A bunch of homes
All I need in world is the pound chrome, Huxtable brown stone
paper (I mean), cake by the layers
If these dudes is live, I'm the Creative
They 'em 'Kings' when they so so hot
Something's wrong that picture, must be Photoshop
I don't violence, but when sparkin the flame - BLAM
start wavin like the Carlton Banks dance
When them go pop, it move whole blocks
Come around with dog and get Cujo shot
These is lame, I try to be an MC with brains
niggaz is MC Brains
Bein nice, rappers is far from nice
I'm on the rooftop recordin, and is bein sniped
like

[Chorus - w/ ad

- DJ On Point - talking - w/ Killa BH ad libs in background]
Shout to the BSC (whole BSC)
Shout to my Dru Cartier
SlimeBugz, DJ
The Don (The Don), Dre (Dre Bless)
DJ Baby Dru (DJ Dru)
My Freeze