Luyện nghe bài hát I Shot Ya

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

I ya!
I'm splittin' brothers open like a
Ya fell asleep, the vampire got'cha
I drop ya in boilin' acid
Ya melt like plastic, elastic, is
Violations, vibrations, son
the hammer let the Uncle give 'em one
Done take a flick of a wicked
puttin' hits on your clique, got'cha wife in tricks
What? You don't to, I thought that you was bawlin'
Now 'cause I cock ya love, ya girlies fallin'
Uh, my function? Lyrical injection
Blazin' niggas, 'em raw with no protection
I take
Ya me, I'm doin' damage
Ya me
The whole scenario is
MC's is gettin' wet up in the
I meet you up in Memphis, just call my
I ya!

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

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

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

Uh-uh-uh-oh, lookin' kinda
Ya clique thought I fell off, didn't want to hear me
Oh really, now tell me how have you been whinin'
years, twenty million albums, yeah you're climbin'
I love your joint The Bells', it was mad hot
Ya record 'bout the Radio was blowin' up my
My girl was on chip when you flipped 'I Need Love'
Your backseat set was mad butter, son
I loved your boomin' system it was as could be
You bad, now I'm on your pink cookies
And you had me 'Mama Said Knock Ya Out'
Ya jinglin', baby, no
Uh, talk to me (what, what, uh, uh) become a zombie, to me
Ain't a MC alive who with me
mean? Man, rock it
Easy it
I gotta pluck it buzzards
I ya!

x3]

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