Luyện nghe bài hát Ingredients to Time Travel

[sound of Keith Murray intro from Mary J. 'What's the 411' tape
which I could swear has set to B.I.G.'s "Who Shot Ya" based on
the sound of the (Artifacts assure me that this is Mary J. Blige)]
"My subliminals, mixed with criminal
Got more syllables than alphabet cereal..."
*car slams*

I gots ta get this bag of bam ba zi, fuck this!

"You know who the fuck I am so get off old bullshucks!"
--> (scratched sample)
"He ain't shit, you ain't shit, your momma ain't shit, ain't shit"
--> (scratched sample)

[Tame
If I had it my way, every MC would die Friday
Makin a better day
Sunday wouldn't your week off til Monday
One day tunes I wrote yesterday be tomorrow's scriptures for today
At high noon, Boom Skwad Gods with
Holler at apostles, who squalor in despair, despisin those who
Swallowin pride like St. Ide's while you stare... take a
think in a eyeblink I won't start my hijinks
and a flight [Yeah right, when?]
Tomorrow night, cause off the record with the and the bass
I my lyrics through the rap race
Last is simply not an option in my case
not want not because I front not
The Notty keeps his lyrical shotty
and up at your temple, over instrumentals
("It's all in your mind") you No. 2 like the
The Skwadron, Godson, who got the Bop Gun
The top gun, from the jump Datsun
I got one, rote rhymes skits I shit on when I get on
Then flip the scripts I had Zips on
on like electrical, my symmetrical
alphabetic keeps my competition ridin on my
("he shit, you ain't shit, ain't nobody shit")
You to the rescue, let me you
Who the crew, most definite
has to be the cause I'm the President
All you with your twelve inches need pinches
Wake the fuck up and check out what is
("he ain't shit, you ain't shit, your momma ain't shit, ain't shit")
I see nuttin but victories
MC's they can get to me, then bring it
Cause I pass the blunt to my Lieutenant then we in it
For the infinite, no play
The notty headed Newark nigga from NJ and the
fully, playin bullies out for yappin
Thinkin you'll be rappin, get and say you scrappin
While I been waitin hatin fake that make they bacon
with passion, rippin up they stickers for
Practicin on rap has-beens, I'm with the Biz like Backspin
Dissin like the Jacksons
Thick like the lips on that Fugee
like the dicks in booty flicks
Dissin niggaz a snooty bitch (trick)
I only pop a coochie if it Gucci
Get the lucci hit it for months and then smoke blunts with the
("What's the Dunn" - Tame)
You know the like blue cheese
on how I crews bleed and school MC's who try to do me

("He shit, you ain't... ahh motherfucker")
"Do me baby, do me baby"
("he shit, you ain't shit...")
"bom ba zi, it over motherfuckers"
("He ain't shit, you shit")

Outro: CMZ

75% water, H2O, PE, alcohol, oil
Dependin on temperature, the hot shit?
Rhino, Tame, Boom Skwad, Hidden
INI, Reflections, check the
God, recognize what's fake
Time to turn platinum to chrome
Green purple yellow red chrome