Luyện nghe bài hát Blue Magic

Roc-a-fella
The Skateboard P
Hova
Y'all already know it is (Oh Shit!)
C'mon!

So what if you flip a words
I could triple in birds
your mind you see the circus in the sky
I'm Ringling Barnum and Bailey with the pies
No how you slice it I'm your motherfucking guy
Just like a with 360 waves
Do the same with the pot, come back beige.
Whether writers are par, whether the jar
it around, it still comes back hard.
So do I w-h-i-p
My repetition with wrists will you kilo biggers.
I got Creole C.O.
For my niggas who slipped, prisoners
Trees taped to the
You already what the business is
Unnecessary commissary, boy we this shit
Niggas wanna the 80s back
It's okay with me, where they made me at
Except I don't on the wall
I my name in the history books,
Hustling in the (hustling in the hall)
Nah, I spin on my head
I spin work in the pots so I can my bread

And I'm getting it, I'm it
I ain't talking about it, I'm it
I'm it, straight getting it
Get get get it boy
(Don't you time,
Fighting the life your course,
And understand)
Get it boy

'87 state of mind that I'm in (mind that I'm in)
In my prime, so for that time, I'm (I'm Rakim)
If it wasn't for the crime I was in
But I wouldn't be the guy whose rhymes it is I'm in (that I'm in)
No pain, no profit, P I if you show me where the pot is (pot is)
M3's with the top back (top back)
Red and G's all on my hat
North beach leathers, Gucci sweater
Gucci on to keep my outfit together
Whatever, for the diamond chain
Can't you that I came from the dope game
Blame Reagan for making me into a
Oliver North and Iran-Contra
I ran contraband they sponsored
Before rhyming stuff we was in concert

Push (push) money over broads, you got it, fuck
(chef), guess what I cooked
Baked a lot of bread and kept it off the
Rockstar, look, way the bars my picture was getting took
Feds, like wack rappers,
Tried as they may, couldn't get me on the
D.A. wanna me
Cause scales in my veins like a pisces
The pyrex pot, up my sleeves
Turn one into two a Siamese
Twin when it end, I'm a as a man
dying or admiring these
Last of a dying breed, so let the pop
I partied for a while now I'm to the block