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
That shit was wack like a
Don't fuck Game

I 50 Cent
He me Spongebob
And Tony is Blues Clues
And Lloyd Banks is the Explorer
my friends

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

300 and Runnin
Just loan me your for 15 minutes
with me

Here the breakdown, pass the doja, .45 in the
Hollow tips'll fold 'em, them *****z they toy
Oh, that boy colder Hova unless 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 Hova pissed
Why would I do that? When I'm just the new cat
That was taught if a ***** take shots to shoot
Defending his yard, yeah his ground
I'm saying if you gonna retire, then me the crown
Nah, let Bleek do it, 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 say? Bleek is over let and Neef do it
They say the wrong thing, I'ma smack 'em
What you thought? Them was the only that rapped in Philly?
See them *****z with the soonies leave you in Philly
Then dash in groups like Beanie Mac in
?? said Curtis in Philly
Make a U-turn, I gotta go back to
I forgot my cheese stake, that's what I the cops
So they wouldn't get the start searching for the glock
And I can't forget, B.I.G. got by the cops
Even I was Ready To Die, when I that he was shot
What's beef? Beef is when I murk you on the
Labels many things, still searching for they Pac
I put purple on the
So I don't feel threatened when Ludacris say he coming for the #1
Ask 50, it get on top
You can hate me or love me, but now the cops the only he got
When it's we eat, we win, but we ain't lonely we pop
You sell 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 stop
And I hope you out before you see the cops
I ain't Top from Colors, I'm from Cedar Block
What i got in my high tops will make breathing stop
I'm a gangsta slash rapper, check CD shop
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 homeboy Eazy
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 *****z Dre producing a track
it to the streets, put the duece duece to your hat
Then call up the pigs, tell the rooster's back
Jadakiss, tell him that duke is back
I'm still by your side, no who comes strapped
Fuck Lloyd Banks, it ain't 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 leaning back, to Fat Joe
You got reservations in heaven, you ready? go
Drop them off, then pop wit Esko
I'm a say he hit me first, if me and Dre
All Nas back was he had a 3-4
Now that's the eulogy, is kinda foolish see
*****z their mouth about what the fuck they gon' do to me
But quit the before I proceed to clapping
And you gon' see the captain with 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' Olivia, you only drop dimes
I knew you changed, when you started sleeping in that dog
I need 50 Cent, my *****z make collect calls
1-800-split a faggot wig
He got G-Unit wings, throw off the Queens Bridge
Now your career is over, career is
We in QB, CNN in the rover
T-O-N-Y, the phony NORE
You ain't the talk of New York, your sixteens is
that shit 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 rhyme like Banks repeat after me
I'm a G-Unit toy
On Sesame doing voice overs
Bitch ass need a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his lines
Sound Oscar the Grouch, with them nursery rhymes
We was in the studio, when I first got
He got stuck, he 50 tryna borrow some lines
That's the wrong *****, when you need help with your
All he gon' tell you is say G-Unit one more
Got mad 'cause I ain't make your beef mine
You got lucky with Ja, why you aint go at
He freestyled from the pen, that's the fact
he'd 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 the beginning not to trust those cats
I'd 'em all, if I could bring Justo back
The underground is mine, I treat it home
It's the reason *****z saying my name Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it like
It's the reason *****z my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I it like home
It's the reason saying my name like Mike Jones
I
The underground is mine, I treat it like
the reason *****z saying my name like Mike Jones
And I'm far from Houston but you can 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 more than
Even Dre knew it, boy hot like summer
Both feet in the dirt, 300 and Runnin
And I beef any *****, say my name 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 a Air Jordon shoe
I told Funk when I catch the ***** Whoo Kid
We gon' see if he know how to DJ with bruised
Don't hit me on the sidekick 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
380 spill 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, 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 Squad, let him scream for the jakes
'cause when you with Jayceon, you can believe in L.A.
For caking off *****z on CD's and tapes
Ask them to scratch a record, you will see he
If 50 was Puffy, run and go get him a cheese cake
the DJ off your 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 shit a lil bit
*****z only 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 clips bananas, I kill a quick
Beating on 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 thinking he can through muddy waters like Redman
blacked out and let the gun blam without a M-E-T-H-O-D 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 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 Life On
Now back to the coward of the hour who lied and said he 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 before I stand over you
Show you how The live on top of The Massacre
Make a move I'm your ass to the last one
Ten shots from the Mack empty the in the passenger
Fase yelling thats enough, let the bag him up
Throw in Makaveli and lift the doors on the
Gun smoking, Fase I'm locin' backing up
the '05 hurse on 41st and traffic, what
Hip-Hop cops on my left, but I 'em up
The got a hemmy in it, Game 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 Jake
Got his crew starving 'cause he the whole cake, *****
He ain't Nas, ain't B.I.G., ain't
If he ain't Cube or Pac who you got?
We getting tired of you about who you shot
I'll use another six to tell you who you not
You ain't 50 Cent, he went out a gangsta
You went out with Vivica, three after wanksta
Get Rich or Die Tryin, we you was hot
Now the ***** wanna take us to the Candy Shop
C'mon man, what happened to the
Now you could find in the club, him and Banks hugging
***** got mad when The Game start
So fuck making now I'm into throwing slugs
Olivia talking we a family, Game had to go
I'll smack that ho like I'm Jackie-O
'cause I don't wanna be cool, I don't be you
I don't wanna shake hands, or wear G-Unit shoes
Don't you on my hooks, don't wanna be in your group
wanna sit here and wait
To be gone, so I can back to the block
white Nike airs and the matching socks fitted

Pull the brim low, if they get it
Bentley on gold daytons, I was the first one with it
Four times platinum, I done there and did it
in the game and shitted, then wiped my ass with it
They say the 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, don't want Jayceon to play
And the DA waiting on to make a mistake
So they can put me in the squad car and lock me
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 too hot, and I want 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 into granades
And Just Blaze, the boy got game
Like I my eyes, and woke 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 thou can't 'em
And the flow is hot like wit Satan
And the thing 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 callin all
'cause they heard about went on in D.C.
Heard Hot 97, my beef with 50

Now me do he got a conscience?
I think not, 'cause if he did I wouldn't be involved in this
Wouldn't be in Harlem, wouldn't be at this
I'd rather be pushing rock, Samantha Ronson
50 whispered in my ear, like we bonding
We ain't friends, I'm acting like Charles Bronson
Middle finger in the air, one hand on my
Hip-Hop on me like I'm the convict
What happened to the old school? I thought it was
E. Fresh and Daina Dane on the corner like Common
Now ain't common, it's more like Top Ramen
The flow is noodles, I throw it up like
And I still like diamonds
kicked me out of G-Unit and I rebounded like Rodman
It's still Aftermath, two 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 a black .45 on the side of my prada denim
on my shoulder like I'm fresh outta prison
Dollar vision, blow a thou like my wallet missing
Then re-up like kid before the
getting money with my feet up
Chasing the throne, here my Air Force
I said fuck Benzino and got the of The Source
Feel me? If not then I you gotta kill me
But you ain't gon' do so muthafucka move back
I do B.I.G. and 'Pac impersonations 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, you ASAP
They know which hole to patch up, when the K clap
I tried to you Young 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 your fucking ass
Kept your mouth shut and I gave you a nigga
Now I lay you down like the last nigga
Buck, buck, buck my AK-47
This playing with his life, I might have to put him in heaven
Tryna the game, talking shit up on the stereo
Prepare for burial, it's when I'm Harry-O
And you don't want that David 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 and went back to the NO
50 heard you on the tour bus and felt little flow
he made you temporary replacement for Yayo
You a bitch, and that's hard to
And you got robbed for your spinning chain in Chicago
I call my nigga Jojo to get it
He had the shit in his hands, and you ain't had the ten
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 Monica I catch him The Boy is Mine
Take one shot of and pop
his panties drop, when I run inside the Candy 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 about the flow, the boy know 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, no getting me back
I'm yelling fuck the world, on my lap
first it was Buddens, then it was Bleek
Now it's whoever muthafucka, yeah, who want
Now whenever muthafucka, who see me?
In the coffin, body exhausted, resting in
You want war nigga, you want peace
So give 'em the peace, (sp?)
Let 'em rest in
From west to the flow is outdatable, irreplacable
Lyrical homicide, hell is hot, I'm boxing with
And I slipped 'em the ace, you cannot 'em
If Eazy ever decide to return, I Jayceon
A in the making, and the throne is for the taking
So I climb the top and put my stake in
Got the of the world on my shoulder
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