Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Runnin'

My mama me to Sam Goody's
I to buy a 50 Cent CD
I that shit home
That shit was wack like a
fuck with Game

I like 50
He reminds me
And Tony is Blues Clues
And Lloyd Banks is the Explorer
They're my

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

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

Here the breakdown, the doja, .45 in the holster
Hollow tips'll fold 'em, *****z they toy soldiers
Oh, that boy colder Hova unless he sober
Like I'm the president, but this the takeover
Now, there's the speaker, bring your a little closer
Before you call this a diss, and you make pissed
Why would I wanna do that? When I'm the new cat
That was taught if a ***** take to shoot back
his yard, yeah standing 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 sleep it
We can go bar for bar, let the lines speak to 'em
What they Bleek is over let Chris and Neef do it
say the wrong thing, I'ma smack 'em silly
What you thought? Them was the only *****z rapped in Philly?
See them *****z with the soonies leave you in Philly
Then dash in groups like Beanie Mac in
?? Curtis Jack in Philly
Make a U-turn, I gotta go to Philly
I forgot my stake, that's what I told the cops
So wouldn't 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 murk you on the
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 me, but now the cops the only homies he got
When it's we eat, we win, but we ain't lonely 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 Yayo I bet 10 G's you
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 ain't High Top from Colors, I'm from Cedar
i got in my high tops will make your breathing stop
I'm a slash rapper, check your CD shop
I'm Elvis in there, they can't believe he dropped
Now I'm on up to George 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 to *****z when Dre producing a track
Take it to the streets, put the duece duece to hat
Then up the pigs, tell them the rooster's back
Call Jadakiss, tell him that duke is
I'm by your side, no matter who comes strapped
Fuck Banks, it ain't about who can rap
It's about when the ruger clap, is back
I see you thinkin, you want me to die, is that so?
Now you left back, thanks to Fat Joe
You got in heaven, you ready? Let's go
Drop them off, then pop cristal wit
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, is kinda foolish see
*****z running their mouth what the fuck they gon' do to me
But quit the before I proceed to clapping
And you gon' see the with plans of getting me captured
behind bars, I'm still gon' shine
I'm 10 years than Yayo, I get out, I'm fine
Then I go right back, I pop mines
How you gon' drop Olivia, you only drop
I knew you changed, when you started sleeping in 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, banging CNN in the
T-O-N-Y, that's the NORE
You ain't the of New York, your sixteens is boring
Take that off lingo, go back to PC
And 50 Cent you want a copy of Beef 3
I'm their 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 ***** a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his lines
Sound like Oscar the Grouch, with 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 G-Unit one more
Got mad 'cause I ain't wanna make beef mine
You got with Ja, why you aint go at Shyne?
He freestyled the pen, that's just the fact
Said he'd put you with 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 from the beginning not to trust those cats
I'd kill 'em all, if I could Justo back
The is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason *****z saying my name Mike Jones
The is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason *****z saying my like Mike Jones
The is mine, I treat it like home
the reason *****z saying my name like Mike Jones
I
The is mine, I treat it like home
the reason *****z saying my name like Mike Jones
And I'm far from 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, ***** is more than music
Even Dre knew it, that boy hot 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 shits sell out like a Air Jordon shoe
I told Funk Flex 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
'cause Bloods get ya
Bloods Bloods gonna get ya for that Shadyville chain
That 380 spill brains, I pop shots
NY, in front of hip-hop cops
Or day in L.A., I'ma tell Em and Dre
***** bootlegging my music, ain't nothing for him to say
Took me off my own songs, then put it on his
So take 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 *****z on CD's and tapes
Ask them to scratch a record, you see he fake
If 50 was Puffy, you'd run and go get him a cheese
Take the DJ off name, Mr. Instant replay
Not the instant
I mean the machine that G-Unit use every time 50 on 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
Only on two songs, now back to some killa
My bananas, I kill a gorilla quick
Beating on chest, I see to your death, yep
Ecko to make him a suit
Tell Reebock to make him some
Get him a head band, to cover the in his head
He a dead man for thinking he can walk through muddy waters like
Banks out and let the gun blam without a M-E-T-H-O-D Man
So the lieutenant gotta ask for his
Take my advice, wear air max for the pen
Unless you one of the Bloods, or a latin
'cause if left with the Aryans your ass will sting
And your cell mate is a 25 to
stab you at Folsom then fuck you on Rikers
And Life On
Now to the coward of the hour who lied and said he write my songs
He Vibe Dre was gonna leave me on the shelf
So he gave me all his hits, you kept them for yourself
stop acting tough before I stand over you
Show you how The Documentary 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
yelling thats enough, let the coroner bag him up
Throw in and lift the doors on the Maganum
Gun smoking, Fase I'm locin' backing up
Reverse the '05 hurse on 41st and traffic,
Hip-Hop on my left, but I pass 'em up
The Dodge got a hemmy in it, Game got a in 'em
In and out of lanes a New York cab
I'm Mr. Ol' King, that New cab
Who's this fake *****, on pictures the Jake *****?
Got his crew 'cause 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 50 Cent, he went out like a gangsta
You went out with Vivica, three months after
Get or Die Tryin, we thought you was hot
Now the same ***** take us to the Candy Shop
C'mon man, happened to the thug?
Now you could find in the club, him and Lloyd hugging
***** got mad when The Game buzzing
So fuck making friends now I'm into slugs
Olivia about we a family, Game had to go
***** I'll smack that ho like I'm
'cause I wanna be cool, I don't wanna be you
I don't wanna shake hands, or your G-Unit shoes
Don't want you on my hooks, don't wanna be in group
wanna sit here and wait
To be gone, so I can head to the block
white Nike airs and the matching socks fitted

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 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 want to play
And the DA on Jayceon to make a mistake
So can put me in the squad car and lock 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 this no subliminal Jay
The summer too hot, and I the winter to stay
'cause I'm a cold ***** I put the pen to the page
Similar to them going into my gauge
I 'em off to Dre, he turned them into granades
And Just Blaze, the boy got game
Like I close my eyes, and woke up in a Roc
Now to reality, my gun and my vest
And if diamonds are forever, I'm Kanye West
Take a at my chest, a hundred thou at jacob
Whole got chains, a hundred thou can't break 'em
And the flow is hot that wit Satan
And the only thing I got spinning is
The I get the more willing to snake 'em
So as the beat drop, watch where I take 'em
Compton Swap meet, to get me some
When Game in the house, they all cars
'cause heard about what went on in D.C.
Heard about Hot 97, my with 50

Now me do he got a conscience?
I think not, if he did I wouldn't be involved in this nonsense
be in Harlem, wouldn't be at this conference
I'd be pushing rock, like Samantha Ronson
50 whispered in my ear, like we still
We friends, I'm just acting like Charles Bronson
Middle finger in the air, one on my Johnson
Hip-Hop on me like I'm the convict
What happened to the old I thought it was rhyming
Doug E. and Daina Dane on the corner like Common
Now that ain't common, it's more Top Ramen
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
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 hood politican, liffin'
And I keep a .45 on the side of my prada denim
Chip on my shoulder like I'm fresh outta
Dollar vision, blow a hundred thou like my wallet
Then like kid before the d-cup
Continuously getting money with my up
Chasing the throne, here my black Air
I said fuck and got the cover of The Source
Feel me? If not I guess 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 remove
We ya'll, can I get a hand clap?
Now back to rap, why I gotta strapped?
On that murder T-I-P, kill you
They won't know which hole to up, when the K clap
I tried to spare you Buck, now it's time for payback
It go, how you from Cashville but you ain't got no cash
Say my name now that's fucking ass nigga
your mouth shut and I gave you a pass nigga
Now I gotta lay you down the last nigga
Buck, buck, buck my AK-47
This nigga playing his life, I might have to put him in heaven
Tryna the game, talking shit up on the stereo
Prepare for burial, it's I'm reincarnating Harry-O
And you want that David 'cause you love your life
Get my Vibe, when it's war he pull out knifes
Muthafucka I'ma show you who the
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 tour bus and felt your little
Then he you temporary replacement for Yayo
You a bitch, and that's to swallow
And you got for your spinning G-Unit chain in Chicago
I call my nigga to get it back
He had the in his hands, and you ain't had the ten stacks
that, I thought 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 Monica when I him The Boy is Mine
one shot of Brandy and pop
Watch his panties drop, when I run inside the 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 beat boxed
Got 20 bars to go, lay it down like sheet
worry about the flow, the boy know he hot
Hurricanes in store November, fuck Reebocks
I'm fly like a on a tree top
The new Hov, the new B.I.G., the new 'Pac, I three spots
280 in, ain't no getting me
I'm yelling the world, on my victory lap
Remember it was Buddens, then it was Bleek
Now it's muthafucka, yeah, who want beef?
Now muthafucka, who wanna see me?
In the coffin, body exhausted, in peace
You don't want war nigga, you want
So give 'em the peace, (sp?)
Let 'em in peace
From west to east the is outdatable, irreplacable
Lyrical homicide, is hot, I'm boxing with Satan
And I slipped 'em the ace, you cannot 'em
If Eazy decide to return, I remain 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 bitch can stop me from taking it over
This is music, go get the baking soda
300 Bars and Runnin, the wait is over
I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone