Luyện nghe bài hát I Shot Ya

Blaze this one, up!
blaze this one
No doubt! uh, check it, check it, it!
uh, uh, it, check it, check it!
I'm Uncle L, it, check it, check it!
The Trackmasters, check it, check it, it!
Now now, check it, check it, check it!
All my niggas now, check it, check it, it!
Yeah, we 'bout to serve this one off nice, 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 boilin'
Ya melt like plastic, elastic, is
Violations, vibrations, son
Cock the hammer let the Uncle 'em one
Done a flick of a wicked lunatic
puttin' hits on your clique, wife in turnin' tricks
What? You want to, I thought that you was bawlin'
Now 'cause I cock ya love, ya girlies fallin'
Uh, what's my Lyrical injection
Blazin' niggas, hittin' 'em raw with no
I advantage
Ya fear me, I'm damage
Ya me
The whole scenario is
MC's is gettin' wet up in the
I you up in Memphis, just call 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 to the stagin'
Trapped in a cagin, toe kissin' a
Ya mob's locked underneath the surface
Ya gettin' nervous for talkin' shit no purpose
Laced up, mind charmer, mad
What goes around comes around, not farmers
Silence, sh, deadly
and battle, let me add you to my medley
Possessin' power, everything I can grasp
Go get it now, why you dwellin' on the past?
Baby boys reminiscin' old shit
Young fools get dicked, LL the shit
With a platinum fist, the 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
niggas recognize what my theory is
I ya!

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

Uh-uh-uh-oh, kinda leery
Ya clique thought I fell off, they didn't want to me
Oh really, now me how long have you been whinin'
years, twenty million albums, yeah you're climbin'
I love your 'Rock The Bells', it was mad hot
Ya record 'bout the Radio was blowin' up my
My girl was on your chip when you flipped 'I Need
Your count set was mad butter, son
I loved your system it was wicked as could be
You bad, now I'm writin' on pink cookies
And you had me screamin' 'Mama Knock Ya Out'
Ya jinglin', baby, no
Uh, to me (what, what, uh, uh) become a zombie, walk to me
Ain't a MC who fought with me
Why'nah mean? Man, it
Easy it
I gotta it like buzzards
I ya!

x3]

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