Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Runnin'

My took me to Sam Goody's
I wanted to buy a 50 CD
I took shit home
That shit was wack like a
Don't fuck with

I like 50
He reminds me
And Tony Yayo is Blues
And Banks is Dora the Explorer
my friends

I went down one of them Bodaga right there in Harlem
Got me a Lloyd Banks and Young Buck CD
that shit home, put it in my boom box
Thought I was bout to be on some Raheim shit
Man that shit sound like some Vanessa '88
I mean Olivia but they say that bitch a man
So this Wallstreet for life now
GGG-UNOT!

300 Bars and
Just loan me your ears for 15
Walk me

Here the breakdown, pass the doja, .45 in the
Hollow tips'll fold 'em, them they toy soldiers
Oh, boy colder than Hova unless he sober
Like I'm the president, but this ain't the
Now, there's the speaker, bring your ears a little
you call this a diss, and you make Hova pissed
Why would I wanna do that? When I'm the new cat
That was taught if a ***** take to shoot back
Defending his yard, yeah his ground
I'm saying if you retire, then hand me the crown
Nah, let do it, then throw him a concert in Madison square
Watch everybody through it
We can go bar for bar, I'll let the lines to 'em
What they Bleek is over let Chris and Neef do it
They say the wrong thing, I'ma smack 'em
you thought? Them was the only *****z that rapped in Philly?
See them *****z with the leave you wrapped in Philly
Then in groups like Beanie Mac in Philly
?? said Curtis Jack in
a U-turn, I gotta go back to Philly
I forgot my cheese stake, what I told the cops
So they wouldn't get the dogs start for the glock
And I forget, B.I.G. got murdered by the cops
Even I was Ready To Die, when I heard he was shot
What's Beef is when I murk you on the spot
Labels signing many things, searching for they Pac
I put on the block
So I don't threatened when Ludacris say he coming for the #1 spot
Ask 50, it get on top
You can hate me or love me, but now the the only homies he got
it's beef we eat, we win, but we ain't lonely we pop
You sell records but a not!
big on the radio, to me you not
You can ask Mr. CCC who hot
Tony I bet 10 G's you flop
Run up on new 300 C you got
Stop hoping I fall, hope the bleeding
And I hope you out before you see the cops
I High Top from Colors, I'm from Cedar Block
What i got in my high tops make your breathing stop
I'm a gangsta slash rapper, check your CD
I'm Elvis in there, they can't believe he dropped
Now I'm moving on up to and Weezy's spot
I picked up where my Eazy stopped
I saw the coast, put the shit on my back
Sprayed Aftermath on it, then the strap
It get hot in here, let rap
Bring hell to *****z when Dre a track
it to the streets, put the duece duece to your hat
Then call up the pigs, tell them the rooster's
Call Jadakiss, tell him that duke is
I'm still by your side, no matter who strapped
Lloyd Banks, it ain't about who can rap
It's about when the clap, is rufus back
I see what you thinkin, you want me to die, is so?
Now you left leaning back, to Fat Joe
You got reservations in heaven, you ready? go
them off, then pop cristal wit Esko
I'm a say he hit me first, if me and Dre
All Nas back was he had a 3-4
Now the eulogy, beef is kinda foolish see
*****z running their mouth about what the they gon' do to me
But the yapping before I proceed to clapping
And you see the captain with plans of getting me captured
behind bars, I'm still gon' shine
I'm 10 years younger Yayo, I get out, I'm fine
Then I go right back, I pop mines
How you gon' drop Olivia, you only drop
I you changed, when you started sleeping in that vest dog
I don't need 50 Cent, my *****z make calls
1-800-split a faggot wig
He got G-Unit wings, them off the Queens Bridge
Now career is over, career is over
We in QB, banging CNN in the
T-O-N-Y, that's the NORE
You ain't the talk of New York, your is boring
that shit off lingo, go back to PC
And tell 50 Cent you a copy of Beef 3
I'm their ass out on DVD
You wanna rhyme like Lloyd repeat after me
I'm a G-Unit toy
On Sesame street doing overs
Bitch ass need a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his lines
Sound like Oscar the Grouch, them nursery rhymes
We was in the studio, when I first got
He got stuck, he called 50 tryna borrow lines
That's the wrong *****, when you help with your rhymes
All he gon' tell you is say G-Unit one time
Got mad I ain't wanna make your beef mine
You got with Ja, why you aint go at Shyne?
He freestyled from the pen, that's just the
Said he'd put you your mom, and you ain't fucked with that
Then you lied about pops, he ain't never bust no cap
Father, Like Son, go ask Busta that
I knew from the beginning not to trust cats
I'd 'em all, if I could bring Justo back
The underground is mine, I it like home
It's the *****z saying my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it home
It's the reason *****z saying my name like Mike
The underground is mine, I it like home
It's the reason *****z my name like Mike Jones
I
The is mine, I treat it like home
It's the *****z saying my name like Mike Jones
And I'm far Houston but you can chop it and screw it
Do whatever to it, but it in the store the moving
Gave 'em a hundred bars, they ain't I could do it
Came with two hundred, ***** is more than music
Even Dre knew it, boy hot like summer
Both in the dirt, 300 Bars and Runnin
And I beef with any *****, say my name I'm gunnin'
You can put it on if you want it
I'll air you out on King, Mike, or Clue
And watch them sell out like a Air Jordon shoe
I told Funk when I catch the ***** Whoo Kid
We see if he know how to DJ with bruised ribs
hit me on the sidekick asking what you did
Get a gun or ask police to use his
Bloods gonna get ya
Bloods Bloods gonna get ya for that Shadyville chain
That 380 brains, when I pop shots
Outside NY, in front of cops
Or broad day in L.A., I'ma Em and Dre
This bootlegging my music, ain't nothing for him to say
me off my own songs, then put it on his tapes
So I'ma him out his house, put the beam on his face
Drop him off at Squad, let him scream for the jakes
when you fucking with Jayceon, you can believe in L.A.
For caking off on them CD's and tapes
Ask them to a record, you will see he fake
If 50 was Puffy, you'd run and go get him a cake
the DJ off your name, Mr. Instant replay
Not the replay
I mean the machine that G-Unit use every 50 on stage singing like
only feel your shit just a lil bit
*****z only feel shit just a lil bit
On my 50 helped me just a lil bit
Only on two songs, now back to killa shit
My clips bananas, I kill a quick
on your chest, I see to your death, yep
Tell Ecko to him a suit
Tell to make him some boots
Get him a band, to cover the holes in his head
He a dead man for he can walk through muddy waters like Redman
Banks blacked out and let the gun without a M-E-T-H-O-D Man
So the lieutenant ask for his strings
Take my advice, never air max for the pen
you one of the Bloods, or a latin king
'cause if your left with the Aryans your ass sting
And your mate is a 25 to lifer
They'll stab you at Folsom then you on Rikers
And Life On
Now back to the coward of the who lied and said he write my songs
He told Dre was gonna leave me on the shelf
So he gave me all his hits, you should've kept for yourself
***** stop acting tough before I stand you
you how The Documentary live on top of The Massacre
Make a move I'm blasting ass to the last one
Ten shots from the Mack the rest in the passenger
Fase thats enough, let the coroner bag him up
Throw in Makaveli and the doors on the Maganum
Gun smoking, Fase I'm locin' backing up
Reverse the '05 hurse on and traffic, what
Hip-Hop on my left, but I pass 'em up
The Dodge got a hemmy in it, got a Remy in 'em
In and out of lanes like a New cab
I'm Mr. Ol' King, that New cab
Who's this fake *****, on pictures with the *****?
Got his crew starving 'cause he aint the cake, *****
He Nas, ain't B.I.G., ain't Jigga
If he ain't Cube or Pac then who you
We getting of you talkin about who you shot
I'll use another six bars to you who you not
You ain't 50 Cent, he went out a gangsta
You went out with Vivica, three after wanksta
Get or Die Tryin, we thought you was hot
Now the same wanna take us to the Candy Shop
man, what happened to the thug?
Now you could find in the club, him and Lloyd hugging
***** got mad when The start buzzing
So making friends now I'm into throwing slugs
Olivia talking we a family, Game had to go
***** smack that ho like I'm Jackie-O
I don't wanna be cool, I don't wanna be you
I don't wanna shake hands, or wear G-Unit shoes
Don't want you on my hooks, don't be in your group
Just wanna sit and wait
To be gone, so I can head back to the
Fresh white Nike airs and the matching socks

Pull the low, if they don't get it
Bentley Coup on gold daytons, I was the one with it
Four times platinum, I been there and did it
Came in the game and shitted, then my ass with it
They say the Lord givth, if Lord it away
So I build a house on top of Hip-Hop, I'll for the day
*****z on me, they don't want Jayceon to play
And the DA on Jayceon to make a mistake
So they can put me in the squad car and me away
me a odd job in the pen for minimum pay
Let me out so I can drive criminal way
Pushing the rock, nah ain't no subliminal Jay
The summer too hot, and I the winter to stay
'cause I'm a cold ***** when I put the pen to the
Similar to them going into my gauge
I hand 'em off to Dre, he turned them into
And Just Blaze, 'cause the boy got
Like I close my eyes, and woke up in a Roc
Now to reality, my gun and my vest
And if are forever, then I'm Kanye West
Take a look at my chest, a thou at jacob
crew got chains, a hundred thou can't break 'em
And the flow is hot like that wit
And the thing I got spinning is Daytons
The I get the more willing to snake 'em
So soon as the beat drop, watch I take 'em
Compton meet, to get me some All-Stars
When in the house, they callin all cars
'cause they heard about went on in D.C.
about Hot 97, my beef with 50

Now me do he got a conscience?
I think not, 'cause if he did I wouldn't be in this nonsense
be in Harlem, wouldn't be at this conference
I'd rather be rock, like Samantha Ronson
50 in my ear, like we still bonding
We ain't friends, I'm just acting like Charles
finger in the air, one hand on my Johnson
Hip-Hop police on me I'm the convict
What to the old school? I thought it was rhyming
E. Fresh and Daina Dane on the corner like Common
Now that ain't common, it's like Top Ramen
The is noodles, I throw it up like vomit
And I still shine diamonds
They kicked me out of G-Unit and I like Rodman
It's still Aftermath, two feet in the shit.
I be mad, I ain't, I'm supposed to I can't because
I'm in the politican, Impala liffin'
And I keep a black .45 on the side of my prada
Chip on my shoulder like I'm outta prison
Dollar vision, blow a hundred like my wallet missing
Then like kid before the d-cup
Continuously getting with my feet up
the throne, here my black Air Force
I said Benzino and got the cover of The Source
Feel me? If not then I guess you gotta me
But you ain't gon' do that so muthafucka move
While I do B.I.G. and impersonations on two tracks
When I wake the dead, remove hats
We ya'll, can I get a hand clap?
Now back to rap, why I stay strapped?
On that murder T-I-P, kill you
They won't which hole to patch up, when the K clap
I tried to spare you Young Buck, now it's for payback
It go, how you from Cashville but you ain't got no nigga?
Say my now that's your fucking ass nigga
Kept mouth shut and I gave you a pass nigga
Now I gotta lay you down like the nigga
Buck, buck, from my AK-47
This nigga playing with his life, I might have to put him in
play the game, talking shit up on the stereo
Prepare for burial, it's I'm reincarnating Harry-O
And you don't want that David 'cause you love life
Get my Vibe, when war he pull out butter knifes
Muthafucka I'ma show you who the
All you do is Murder Inc., now who the
When Suge had you, you were on Tha Row
Juve left you for dead and went to the NO
50 heard you on the bus and felt your little flow
Then he made you temporary replacement for
You a bitch, and that's to swallow
And you got for your spinning G-Unit chain in Chicago
I call my nigga Jojo to get it
He had the shit in his hands, and you had the ten stacks
Picture that, I thought we was
Then you ran and told 50 I did that shit
Ask C-Murder, the boy ain't to find
I told when I catch him The Boy is Mine
Take one shot of and pop
Watch his panties drop, when I run inside the Shop
Fuck you, 50, Banks, Yayo, and the
And Olivia, I for a man she hot
Now I'm running out of breath, like I just beat
Got 20 to go, lay it down like sheet rock
Don't worry about the flow, the boy he hot
Hurricanes in November, nigga fuck Reebocks
I'm fly like a on a tree top
The new Hov, the new B.I.G., the new 'Pac, I need three
280 in, ain't no me back
I'm yelling the world, on my victory lap
first it was Buddens, then it was Bleek
Now it's muthafucka, yeah, who want beef?
Now whenever muthafucka, who see me?
In the coffin, body exhausted, in peace
You want war nigga, you want peace
So give 'em the peace, (sp?)
Let 'em in peace
From west to east the flow is outdatable,
homicide, hell is hot, I'm boxing with Satan
And I slipped 'em the ace, you replace 'em
If Eazy ever decide to return, I Jayceon
A king in the making, and the is for the taking
So I the mountain top and put my stake in
Got the of the world on my shoulder
Not a nigga nor a hoodrat bitch can stop me taking it over
This is crack music, go get the soda
300 Bars and Runnin, the wait is over
I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone