Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Runnin'

My took me to Sam Goody's
I to buy a 50 Cent CD
I that shit home
shit was wack like a muthafucka
Don't fuck Game

I 50 Cent
He me Spongebob
And Tony Yayo is Clues
And Lloyd Banks is the Explorer
They're my

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

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

Here the breakdown, pass the doja, .45 in the
Hollow tips'll fold 'em, them *****z toy soldiers
Oh, that boy than Hova unless he sober
I'm the president, but this ain't the takeover
Now, there's the speaker, bring your ears a little
Before you call a diss, and you make Hova pissed
Why would I wanna do that? When I'm the new cat
was taught if a ***** take shots to shoot back
Defending his yard, standing his ground
I'm saying if you gonna retire, then me the crown
Nah, let Bleek do it, then throw him a concert in Madison
Watch everybody through it
We can go bar for bar, let the lines speak to 'em
they say? Bleek is over let Chris and Neef do it
They say the wrong thing, I'ma smack 'em
What you thought? Them was the only *****z that rapped in
See them with the soonies leave you wrapped in Philly
Then dash in like Beanie Mac in Philly
?? said Curtis in Philly
Make a U-turn, I gotta go to Philly
I forgot my cheese stake, that's what I told the
So they wouldn't get the dogs start searching for the
And I can't forget, B.I.G. got by the cops
Even I was To Die, when I heard that he was shot
What's beef? is when I murk you on the spot
Labels signing many things, searching for they Pac
I put purple on the
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
When 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
hoping I fall, hope the bleeding stop
And I hope you black out you see the cops
I ain't High Top from Colors, I'm Cedar Block
What i got in my high tops will make breathing stop
I'm a gangsta slash rapper, check your CD
I'm like Elvis in there, they can't he dropped
Now I'm moving on up to and Weezy's spot
I picked up my homeboy Eazy stopped
I saw the west coast, put the on my back
Sprayed on it, then loosened the strap
It get hot in here, let rap
Bring hell to *****z when Dre a track
Take it to the streets, put the duece duece to hat
Then call up the pigs, them the rooster's back
Jadakiss, tell him that duke is back
I'm still by your side, no matter who strapped
Fuck Lloyd Banks, it about who can rap
It's about when the clap, is rufus back
I see you thinkin, you want me to die, is that so?
Now you left back, thanks to Fat Joe
You got reservations in heaven, you Let's go
Drop off, then pop cristal wit Esko
I'm a say he hit me first, if me and Dre
All Nas said was he had a 3-4
Now that's the eulogy, beef is foolish see
*****z running their about what the fuck they gon' do to me
But quit the yapping before I proceed to
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
I go right back, ***** I pop mines
How you gon' drop Olivia, you only dimes
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 ***** wig
He got G-Unit wings, them off the Queens Bridge
Now career is over, career is over
We in QB, CNN in the rover
T-O-N-Y, the phony NORE
You ain't the talk of New York, sixteens is boring
Take that shit off lingo, go to PC
And tell 50 Cent you want a of Beef 3
I'm airing ass out on DVD
You wanna like Lloyd Banks repeat after me
I'm a G-Unit toy
On street doing voice overs
Bitch ass ***** need a rhyme dictionary, to his lines
Sound like Oscar the Grouch, with them rhymes
We was in the studio, when I got signed
He got stuck, he 50 tryna borrow some lines
the wrong *****, when you need help with your rhymes
All he gon' tell you is say G-Unit one more
Got mad 'cause I wanna make your beef mine
You got lucky Ja, why you aint go at Shyne?
He freestyled from the pen, that's the fact
Said he'd put you with your mom, and you fucked with that
Then you about your pops, he ain't never bust no cap
Father, Like Son, go ask Busta that
I knew the beginning not to trust those cats
I'd kill 'em all, if I could bring back
The underground is mine, I treat it like
It's the reason *****z my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it home
It's the reason *****z saying my name like Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it like
It's the reason saying my name like Mike Jones
I
The is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason *****z saying my name like Jones
And I'm far from but you can chop it and screw it
Do whatever to it, but it in the store the moving
'em a hundred bars, they ain't think I could do it
Came with two hundred, ***** this is than music
Dre knew it, that boy hot like summer
Both feet in the dirt, 300 Bars and
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 Drama King, Mike, or
And watch them sell out like a Air Jordon shoe
I told Funk Flex when I catch the Whoo Kid
We gon' see if he know how to DJ with bruised
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 day in L.A., I'ma tell Em and Dre
This ***** bootlegging my music, ain't for him to say
Took me off my own songs, then put it on his
So I'ma him out his house, put the beam on his face
Drop him off at Terror Squad, let him for the jakes
'cause when you fucking Jayceon, you can believe in L.A.
For caking off *****z on them CD's and
Ask to scratch a record, you will see he fake
If 50 was Puffy, run and go get him a cheese cake
Take the DJ off name, Mr. Instant replay
Not the instant
I mean the machine that use every time 50 on stage singing like
Bitches only feel shit just a lil bit
*****z only your shit just a lil bit
On my album 50 me just a lil bit
Only on two songs, now back to killa shit
My clips bananas, I kill a gorilla
Beating on chest, I see to your death, yep
Tell Ecko to make him a
Tell Reebock to him some boots
Get him a head band, to cover the holes in his
He a dead man for thinking he can walk through waters like Redman
Banks blacked out and let the gun blam without a Man
So the gotta ask for his strings
my advice, never wear air max for the pen
Unless you one of the Bloods, or a latin
'cause if your with the Aryans your ass will sting
And your cell is a 25 to lifer
They'll stab you at then fuck you on Rikers
And Life On
Now back to the coward of the hour who lied and he write my songs
He told Vibe Dre was leave me on the shelf
So he gave me all his hits, you should've kept for yourself
***** stop tough before I stand over you
you how The Documentary live on top of The Massacre
Make a I'm blasting your ass to the last one
Ten shots from the Mack empty the rest in the
Fase yelling enough, let the coroner bag him up
Throw in Makaveli and the doors on the Maganum
Gun smoking, Fase think I'm backing up
Reverse the '05 hurse on and traffic, what
Hip-Hop on my left, but I pass 'em up
The got a hemmy in it, Game got a Remy in 'em
In and out of lanes a New York cab
I'm Mr. Ol' King, New York cab
Who's this fake *****, on pictures with the *****?
Got his crew starving he aint the whole cake, *****
He ain't Nas, ain't B.I.G., Jigga
If he Cube or Pac then who you got?
We tired of you talkin about who you shot
I'll use another six to tell you who you not
You ain't 50 Cent, he went out like a
You went out with Vivica, three months after
Get or Die Tryin, we thought you was hot
Now the ***** wanna take us to the Candy Shop
C'mon man, what happened to the
Now you could in the club, him and Lloyd Banks hugging
***** got mad when The start buzzing
So fuck making friends now I'm throwing slugs
talking about 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 wanna shake hands, or wear your G-Unit shoes
Don't you on my hooks, don't wanna be in your group
Just wanna sit and wait
To be gone, so I can head to the block
white Nike airs and the matching socks fitted

Pull the brim low, if they get it
Bentley Coup on gold daytons, I was the one with it
Four platinum, I done been there and did it
Came in the game and shitted, then my ass with it
say the Lord givth, if Lord take it away
So I build a house on top of Hip-Hop, wait for the day
*****z hating on me, they don't want to play
And the DA on Jayceon to make a mistake
So they can put me in the squad car and me away
Give me a odd job in the pen for pay
Let me out so I can drive down way
Pushing the rock, nah this ain't no Jay
The too hot, and I want the winter to stay
'cause I'm a cold ***** I put the pen to the page
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 back to reality, my gun and my
And if diamonds are forever, then I'm Kanye
Take a look at my chest, a thou at jacob
Whole got chains, a hundred thou can't break 'em
And the flow is hot like that wit
And the only I got spinning is Daytons
The hotter I get the more willing to 'em
So soon as the drop, watch where I take 'em
Compton Swap meet, to get me some
When Game in the house, they all cars
'cause they about what went on in D.C.
about Hot 97, my beef with 50

Now me do he got a conscience?
I not, 'cause if he did I wouldn't be involved in this nonsense
Wouldn't be in Harlem, wouldn't be at conference
I'd rather be pushing rock, like Samantha
50 whispered in my ear, we still bonding
We friends, I'm just acting like Charles Bronson
finger in the air, one hand on my Johnson
Hip-Hop on me like I'm the convict
What happened to the old I thought it was rhyming
Doug E. Fresh and Daina on the corner like Common
Now that ain't common, it's more like Top
The flow is noodles, I it up like vomit
And I still shine like
They kicked me out of G-Unit and I rebounded like
still Aftermath, two feet in the paint shit.
I be mad, I ain't, I'm supposed to I can't because
I'm in the hood politican, liffin'
And I keep a .45 on the side of my prada denim
Chip on my shoulder like I'm outta prison
vision, blow a hundred thou like my wallet missing
Then re-up like kid the d-cup
getting money with my feet up
Chasing the throne, here my black Air
I said fuck and got the cover of The Source
Feel me? If not then I guess you gotta me
But you gon' do that so muthafucka move back
While I do B.I.G. and impersonations on two tracks
When I the dead, everybody remove hats
We miss ya'll, can I get a hand
Now back to rap, why I gotta stay
On that T-I-P, kill you ASAP
They won't know which hole to patch up, when the K
I tried to spare you Buck, now it's time for payback
It go, how you from Cashville but you got no cash nigga?
Say my name now that's your ass nigga
your mouth shut and I gave you a pass nigga
Now I lay you down like the last nigga
Buck, buck, buck from my
This nigga playing his life, I might have to put him in heaven
Tryna play the game, shit up on the stereo
for burial, it's when I'm reincarnating Harry-O
And you don't that David 'cause you love your life
Get my Vibe, when it's war he pull out knifes
Muthafucka I'ma you who the gangsta
All you do is Murder Inc., now who the
Suge had you, you were stranded on Tha Row
Juve left you for dead and back to the NO
50 heard you on the bus and felt your little flow
Then he you temporary replacement for Yayo
You a bitch, and that's hard to
And you got robbed for your G-Unit chain in Chicago
I my nigga Jojo to get it back
He had the shit in his hands, and you had the ten stacks
Picture that, I we was G-Unit
Then you ran and told 50 that I did that
Ask C-Murder, the boy ain't hard to
I told when I catch him The Boy is Mine
Take one of Brandy and pop
Watch his panties drop, I run inside the Candy Shop
you, 50, Banks, Yayo, and the cops
And Olivia, I for a man she hot
Now I'm running out of breath, like I just boxed
Got 20 bars to go, lay it down like sheet
worry about the flow, the boy know he hot
Hurricanes in store November, nigga fuck
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 fuck the world, on my victory lap
Remember first it was Buddens, then it was
Now it's muthafucka, yeah, who want beef?
Now whenever muthafucka, who see me?
In the coffin, body exhausted, in peace
You don't war nigga, you want peace
So give 'em the peace, (sp?)
Let 'em rest in
From to east the flow is outdatable, irreplacable
Lyrical homicide, hell is hot, I'm boxing Satan
And I 'em the ace, you cannot replace 'em
If Eazy ever decide to return, I Jayceon
A king in the making, and the throne is for the
So I climb the top and put my stake in
Got the weight of the world on my
Not a nor a hoodrat bitch can stop me from taking it over
This is crack music, go get the soda
300 Bars and Runnin, nigga the is over
I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone