Luyện nghe bài hát 13 Years

19 nigga 7, bitch what's

Thirteen years!
I know to do to knock your stupid ass
so bad you no challenge.
muthafuckin years!
This no fluke, this pure deep talent.
Thirteen years!
I know what to do to your stupid ass
so bad you no challenge.
Thirteen years!
1]
Bow, when I hold the and hold it
Keepin me rappin I hoarse and swollen
Thirteen years and
I rate than coldest
Gettin part of this, niggas don't want no of this
Never leave you alone in life, nigga I'm selectin and sellin rhymes
Slap a nigga that style sound some like
Mad enough you "It AIN'T!"
(This line whispered, hear)
You be pissin me off the time, take you down one at a time
I'ma be known for fuckin over your album
Who want my
Keep decling, I'ma keep
duckin, I'ma keep buckin
Keepin seekin rhymes comin to get you bitches off me
cow sled, (..?..)
Hard to break, if it comes way
It took me thirteen muthafuckin years just to a tape
But that mean that my rhymes one of the strongest
All I know I been tryin to it for the fuckin longest
the side of all this, long as you done it
When I it, gettin blunted bout to run this bitch
Takin them riders down with me, clown me
Leave thirteen in your chest and you can count em

2]
Nigga go the vibe, dividin mad this year
catastrophy, leave MCs in closed caskets
Hit ya like full metal jackets, cut hatchets
Tight as ratchets, and burn like
Thick than amino acids, flip like gymnastics, nasty as a pissy
Droppin the temperature in December
Clippin em, tippin em, been writin far back as I can remember
Fulla them rocks, move key
It was ghetto Djs and MCs
your buisness in this industry of competition
Or be at F.W. Bulls washin
Bitch I was to write million dollar rhymes
Battle in the of Cohen back in 85
86, 87, 88, hooked up with Big Boy records and made my demo tape
We dropped real shit in the basement
I had big ol' nigga tracks, like pavement
To from New Orleans made it hard to surface
That's I got discouraged and joined the service
Pissed of and I (?) before
I went to war and served federal time before I made it home
No rips in my jeans and gettin my cream
Ain't shit about my number thirteen

3]
I hit the bitch BOSH! Owwwwww!
Never gon bounce could rap and time before I bow
How in the fuck you me right now
Told ass she had said I'd be on top of the pile
my rap style is my hustle
I shot up like Muslims
With the like muscle
Use a, pretty delievery cause it's most
I form a style sharp enough to cut straight the bones
I from my welts, gave up my belt
I got off Big Boy records to put my single on the shelf, now
Do I do it? Fuckin I did it
Shoulda seen the little chir'en in the street I'm Not That Nigga
Size ain't nothin nigga, I'm
nigga, raah!
They gave me five hundred dollars, shit I both of my jobs
Fuck em, got other shit to do from nine to five
My birthday came, and my sister
But next year, Mystikal signed a half a dollar deal with Jive
This shit thats can't be no more
Because of my rings I work at A&P no
I drive my landcruiser off the floor
Got the time to time to feel pain, sittin on
Comin scheme, up in my dream
Who'd a ever thought I'd be a No Limit
by the end of thirteen
Thirteen muthfuckin years!