Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Runnin'

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

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

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

300 Bars and
Just 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 colder than Hova he sober
Like I'm the president, but this the takeover
Now, there's the speaker, bring your ears a closer
Before you call this a diss, and you make 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, 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 say? is over let Chris and Neef do it
They say the wrong thing, I'ma 'em silly
What you thought? Them was the only *****z that in Philly?
See them with the soonies leave you wrapped in Philly
Then dash in groups Beanie Mac in Philly
?? Curtis Jack in Philly
Make a U-turn, I gotta go to Philly
I forgot my cheese stake, what I told the cops
So they get the dogs start searching for the glock
And I forget, B.I.G. got murdered by the cops
Even I was Ready To Die, when I heard that he was
What's beef? Beef is when I you on the spot
Labels many things, still searching for they Pac
I put purple on the
So I don't feel threatened when say he coming for the #1 spot
Ask 50, it get on top
You can me or love me, but now the cops the only homies he got
When it's beef we eat, we win, but we ain't we pop
You records but a GGG-u 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 you black out before you see the cops
I ain't High Top from Colors, I'm from Block
What i got in my high tops will make breathing stop
I'm a slash rapper, check your CD shop
I'm like Elvis in there, they believe he dropped
Now I'm moving on up to and Weezy's spot
I picked up where my Eazy stopped
I saw the west coast, put the shit on my
Sprayed Aftermath on it, then the strap
It get hot in here, let rap
Bring hell to when Dre producing a track
Take it to the streets, put the duece duece to hat
Then call up the pigs, them the rooster's back
Call Jadakiss, him that duke is back
I'm still by your side, no matter who comes
Fuck Lloyd Banks, it about who can rap
It's about the ruger clap, is rufus back
I see what you thinkin, you want me to die, is 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 the eulogy, beef is kinda foolish see
*****z their mouth about what the fuck they gon' do to me
But quit the yapping before I to clapping
And you gon' see the captain plans of getting me captured
Even behind bars, I'm still gon'
I'm 10 younger than Yayo, I get out, I'm fine
Then I go right back, ***** I pop
How you drop Olivia, you only drop dimes
I you changed, when you started sleeping in that vest dog
I don't need 50 Cent, my *****z make collect
1-800-split a faggot wig
He got G-Unit wings, throw them off the Bridge
Now career is over, career is over
We in QB, CNN in the rover
T-O-N-Y, that's the phony
You ain't the talk of New York, sixteens is boring
that shit off lingo, go back to PC
And tell 50 Cent you a copy of Beef 3
I'm airing ass out on DVD
You wanna rhyme like Lloyd repeat after me
I'm a toy soldier
On Sesame street doing voice
Bitch ass ***** need a dictionary, to rehearse his lines
Sound Oscar the Grouch, with them nursery rhymes
We was in the studio, I first got signed
He got stuck, he called 50 tryna borrow lines
the wrong *****, when you need help with your rhymes
All he gon' tell you is say one more time
Got mad 'cause I ain't wanna your beef mine
You got lucky with Ja, why you aint go at
He freestyled from the pen, that's the fact
Said put you with your mom, and you ain't fucked with that
Then you lied your pops, he ain't never bust no cap
Like Father, Like Son, go ask Busta
I knew from the beginning not to trust those
I'd kill 'em all, if I could bring back
The underground is mine, I treat it home
It's the reason *****z my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it like
It's the *****z saying my name like Mike Jones
The is mine, I treat it like home
It's the *****z saying my name like Mike Jones
I
The underground is mine, I treat it home
It's the reason *****z saying my name like Mike
And I'm far Houston but you can chop it and screw it
Do whatever to it, but it in the store the shit
Gave 'em a hundred bars, they ain't think I do it
Came with two hundred, this is more than music
Even Dre knew it, that boy hot like
Both feet in the dirt, 300 and Runnin
And I beef with any *****, say my muthafuck I'm gunnin'
You can put it on skee if you it
air you out on Drama King, Mike, or Clue
And watch them shits sell out like a Air shoe
I told Funk Flex when I catch the Whoo Kid
We gon' see if he know how to DJ bruised ribs
hit me on the sidekick asking what you did
Get a gun or ask 50's to use his
Bloods gonna get ya
Bloods Bloods Bloods gonna get ya for that chain
380 spill brains, when I pop shots
Outside NY, in front of hip-hop
Or day in L.A., I'ma tell Em and Dre
This bootlegging my music, ain't nothing for him to say
Took me off my own songs, put it on his tapes
So I'ma take him out his house, put the on his face
Drop him off at Terror Squad, let him for the jakes
'cause when you with Jayceon, you can believe in L.A.
For caking off *****z on them CD's and
Ask them to scratch a record, you 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 G-Unit use time 50 on stage singing like
Bitches only feel your just a lil bit
only feel your shit just a lil bit
On my 50 helped me just a lil bit
on two songs, now back to some killa shit
My clips bananas, I a gorilla quick
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 man for thinking he can walk through muddy waters like Redman
Banks out and let the gun blam without a M-E-T-H-O-D Man
So the lieutenant gotta ask for his
my advice, never wear air max for the pen
Unless you one of the Bloods, or a king
'cause if your left with the Aryans ass will sting
And cell mate is a 25 to lifer
They'll stab you at then fuck you on Rikers
And Goes On
Now back to the coward of the hour who lied and 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 them for
***** stop acting tough before I stand you
Show you how The live on top of The Massacre
Make a move I'm blasting your ass to the one
Ten shots from the empty the rest in the passenger
yelling thats enough, let the coroner bag him up
Throw in Makaveli and the doors on the Maganum
Gun smoking, think 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 in it, Game got a Remy in 'em
In and out of like a New York cab
I'm Mr. Ol' King, New York cab
Who's this fake *****, on pictures the Jake *****?
Got his crew 'cause he aint the whole cake, *****
He Nas, ain't B.I.G., ain't Jigga
If he ain't Cube or Pac who you got?
We getting tired of you talkin 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
C'mon man, what to the thug?
Now you could find in the club, him and Banks hugging
***** got mad when The Game buzzing
So fuck friends now I'm into throwing slugs
Olivia about we a family, Game had to go
***** I'll smack that ho I'm Jackie-O
'cause I don't wanna be cool, I wanna be you
I don't wanna shake hands, or wear G-Unit shoes
Don't want you on my hooks, don't wanna be in group
Just wanna sit here and
To be gone, so I can head to the block
Fresh white Nike airs and the matching fitted

Pull the low, if they don't get it
Coup on gold daytons, I was the first one with it
Four platinum, I done been there and did it
Came in the game and shitted, then wiped my ass it
say the Lord givth, if Lord take it away
So I build a house on top of Hip-Hop, I'll for the day
*****z hating on me, they don't Jayceon to play
And the DA waiting on Jayceon to 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
I'm a cold ***** when I put the pen to the page
Similar to shells going into my gauge
I hand 'em off to Dre, he turned into granades
And Just Blaze, 'cause the boy got
Like I close my eyes, and up in a Roc chain
Now to reality, my gun and my vest
And if diamonds are forever, then I'm Kanye
Take a look at my chest, a thou at jacob
Whole crew got chains, a hundred can't break 'em
And the flow is hot that wit Satan
And the only thing I got is Daytons
The hotter I get the more willing to 'em
So soon as the beat drop, watch where I 'em
Compton Swap meet, to get me All-Stars
When Game in the house, they callin all
'cause they heard what went on in D.C.
Heard about Hot 97, my with 50

Now tell me do he got a
I think not, 'cause if he did I be involved in this nonsense
be in Harlem, wouldn't be at this conference
I'd rather be rock, like Samantha Ronson
50 whispered in my ear, like we bonding
We ain't friends, I'm just acting Charles Bronson
Middle finger in the air, one hand on my
police on me like I'm the convict
What happened to the old school? I it was rhyming
Doug E. Fresh and Dane on the corner like Common
Now that ain't common, it's more like Top
The flow is noodles, I throw it up vomit
And I still like diamonds
They kicked me out of G-Unit and I rebounded Rodman
It's still Aftermath, two feet in the shit.
I be mad, I ain't, I'm supposed to stop I 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 thou like my wallet missing
Then re-up like kid before the
Continuously getting money with my up
Chasing the throne, my black Air Force
I said fuck and got the cover of The Source
Feel me? If not then I you gotta kill me
But you ain't gon' do that so muthafucka move
While I do B.I.G. and 'Pac on two tracks
When I wake the dead, everybody hats
We ya'll, can I get a hand clap?
Now back to rap, why I gotta stay
On that murder T-I-P, kill you
They won't know which hole to patch up, when the K
I tried to spare you Young Buck, now it's for payback
It go, how you from Cashville but you ain't got no cash
Say my name now that's your ass nigga
Kept your mouth shut and I you a pass nigga
Now I gotta lay you down like the last
Buck, buck, buck from my
This nigga playing with his life, I might have to put him in
Tryna the game, talking shit up on the stereo
Prepare for burial, when I'm reincarnating Harry-O
And you don't want David 'cause you love your life
Get my Vibe, when it's war he pull out butter
Muthafucka I'ma you who the gangsta
All you do is Murder Inc., now who the
When Suge had you, you stranded on Tha Row
Juve left you for dead and went to the NO
50 heard you on the tour bus and felt little flow
Then he you temporary replacement for Yayo
You a bitch, and that's hard to
And you got robbed for your spinning G-Unit chain in
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 50 that I did that shit
Ask C-Murder, the boy ain't hard to
I told Monica when I catch him The Boy is
one shot of Brandy and pop
Watch his drop, when 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
Don't about the flow, the boy know he hot
in store November, nigga fuck Reebocks
I'm fly like a Hummingbird on a top
The new Hov, the new B.I.G., the new 'Pac, I need spots
280 in, ain't no getting me
I'm yelling the world, on my victory lap
first it was Buddens, then it was Bleek
Now it's whoever muthafucka, yeah, who beef?
Now muthafucka, who wanna see me?
In the coffin, exhausted, resting in peace
You don't want war nigga, you peace
So 'em the peace, capiche (sp?)
Let 'em in peace
From west to east the is outdatable, irreplacable
Lyrical homicide, hell is hot, I'm boxing with
And I slipped 'em the ace, you 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 of the world on my shoulder
Not a nigga nor a hoodrat bitch can 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