Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Runnin'

My mama took me to Sam
I wanted to buy a 50 CD
I took that shit
That shit was wack like a
fuck with Game

I 50 Cent
He me Spongebob
And Tony Yayo is Blues
And Lloyd Banks is Dora the
my friends

I went one of them Bodaga shits right there in Harlem
Got me a bootleg 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 some Vanessa Williams '88
I mean Olivia but they say that bitch a man
So this Black Wallstreet for 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
I'm the president, but this ain't the takeover
Now, there's the speaker, bring your ears a closer
Before you this a diss, and you make Hova pissed
Why would I wanna do When I'm just the new cat
That was if a ***** take shots to shoot back
Defending his yard, standing his ground
I'm if you gonna retire, then hand me the crown
Nah, let Bleek do it, then him a concert in Madison square
Watch everybody sleep 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 'em silly
you thought? Them was the only *****z that rapped in Philly?
See them *****z with the leave you wrapped in Philly
Then dash in like Beanie Mac in Philly
?? said Jack in Philly
Make a U-turn, I gotta go back to
I forgot my cheese stake, that's I told the cops
So wouldn't get the dogs start searching for the glock
And I can't forget, B.I.G. got murdered by the
Even I was Ready To Die, when I that he was shot
What's beef? Beef is I murk you on the spot
Labels many things, still searching for they Pac
I put on the block
So I don't feel threatened Ludacris say he coming for the #1 spot
Ask 50, it get on top
You can hate me or love me, but now the cops the 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 out before you see the cops
I ain't High Top from Colors, I'm from Block
What i got in my high will make your breathing stop
I'm a gangsta rapper, check your CD shop
I'm like in there, they can't believe he dropped
Now I'm moving on up to George and Weezy's
I picked up where my homeboy Eazy
I saw the west coast, put the shit on my
Sprayed on it, then loosened the strap
It get hot in here, let rap
hell to *****z when Dre producing a track
Take it to the streets, put the duece duece to hat
Then call up the pigs, tell the rooster's back
Call Jadakiss, him that duke is back
I'm still by your side, no matter who strapped
Lloyd Banks, it ain't about who can rap
It's when the ruger 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 ready? 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 the eulogy, beef is kinda foolish see
*****z running their mouth what the fuck they gon' do to me
But quit the yapping I proceed to clapping
And you gon' see the captain plans of getting me captured
Even behind bars, I'm gon' shine
I'm 10 younger than Yayo, I get out, I'm fine
Then I go back, ***** I pop mines
How you drop Olivia, you only drop dimes
I knew you changed, when you started sleeping in vest dog
I need 50 Cent, my *****z make collect calls
1-800-split a faggot wig
He got G-Unit wings, throw them off the Queens
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 of New York, your sixteens is boring
that shit off lingo, go back to PC
And tell 50 Cent you want a of Beef 3
I'm their ass out on DVD
You rhyme like Lloyd Banks repeat after me
I'm a toy soldier
On Sesame street doing overs
Bitch ass need a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his lines
Sound like Oscar the Grouch, with them nursery
We was in the studio, when I first got
He got stuck, he called 50 tryna borrow some
That's the wrong *****, when you need help your rhymes
All he gon' tell you is say G-Unit one more
Got mad 'cause I ain't wanna make your beef
You got lucky with Ja, why you go at Shyne?
He freestyled the pen, that's just the fact
Said he'd put you with your mom, and you fucked with that
Then you lied your pops, he ain't never bust no cap
Father, Like Son, go ask Busta that
I knew from the not to trust those cats
I'd kill 'em all, if I could Justo back
The underground is mine, I treat it like
It's the reason *****z saying my like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it home
It's the reason saying my name like Mike Jones
The is mine, I treat it like home
the reason *****z saying my name like Mike Jones
I
The underground is mine, I treat it like
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 the shit moving
Gave 'em a hundred bars, ain't think I could do it
Came with two hundred, ***** this is more than
Even Dre knew it, that boy hot summer
Both feet in the dirt, 300 Bars and
And I beef any *****, say my name muthafuck I'm gunnin'
You can put it on skee if you it
I'll air you out on King, Mike, or Clue
And watch them shits sell out like a Air Jordon
I told Funk Flex when I catch the ***** Kid
We gon' see if he know how to DJ with ribs
Don't hit me on the sidekick asking you did
Get a gun or ask 50's to use his
Bloods gonna 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 broad day in L.A., tell Em and Dre
***** bootlegging my music, ain't nothing for him to say
Took me off my own songs, put it on his tapes
So I'ma him out his house, put the beam on his face
Drop him off at Terror Squad, let him scream for the
'cause when you fucking Jayceon, you can believe in L.A.
For caking off *****z on them CD's and
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 time 50 on stage like
only feel your shit just a lil bit
*****z feel your shit just a lil bit
On my album 50 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 him some boots
Get him a head band, to the holes in his head
He a dead man for thinking he can walk through muddy like Redman
Banks 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 king
'cause if your left the Aryans your ass will sting
And your cell mate is a 25 to
They'll stab you at Folsom then you on Rikers
And Goes 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 should've kept them for
stop acting tough before I stand over you
Show you how The Documentary live on top of The
Make a move I'm your ass to the last one
Ten from the Mack empty the rest in the passenger
Fase yelling 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 on 41st 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, New York cab
Who's this fake *****, on with the Jake *****?
Got his crew starving 'cause he the whole cake, *****
He ain't Nas, B.I.G., ain't Jigga
If he ain't Cube or Pac who you got?
We getting tired of you about who you shot
use another six bars to tell you who you not
You ain't 50 Cent, he out like 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 Lloyd 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
***** I'll smack that ho I'm Jackie-O
'cause I don't be cool, I don't wanna be you
I don't shake hands, or wear your 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 socks fitted

Pull the brim low, if don't get it
Bentley Coup on daytons, I was the first one with it
Four platinum, I done been 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, wait for the day
*****z on me, they don't want Jayceon to play
And the DA waiting on Jayceon to make a
So they can put me in the car and lock me away
me a odd job in the pen for minimum pay
Let me out so I can drive criminal way
the rock, nah this ain't no subliminal Jay
The summer too hot, and I the winter to stay
'cause I'm a ***** when I put the pen to the page
Similar to shells going into my gauge
I hand 'em off to Dre, he turned them granades
And Blaze, 'cause the boy got game
Like I close my eyes, and woke up in a Roc
Now back to reality, my gun and my
And if are forever, then I'm Kanye West
Take a look at my chest, a hundred at jacob
crew got chains, a hundred thou can't break 'em
And the flow is hot like that wit
And the only thing I got spinning is
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
Game in the house, they callin all cars
'cause they heard about what on in D.C.
about Hot 97, my beef 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 pushing rock, like Ronson
50 whispered in my ear, like we bonding
We ain't friends, I'm just like Charles Bronson
Middle in the air, one hand on my Johnson
Hip-Hop police on me I'm the convict
What happened to the old school? I thought it was
Doug E. Fresh and Daina 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 diamonds
They 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 to stop I can't because
I'm in the hood politican, liffin'
And I keep a black .45 on the of my prada denim
Chip on my shoulder like I'm outta prison
Dollar vision, blow a hundred thou my wallet missing
Then re-up like kid before the
Continuously getting with my feet up
the throne, here my black Air Force
I said Benzino and got the cover of The Source
me? If not then 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 hats
We miss ya'll, can I get a 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 Young Buck, now it's for payback
It go, how you from Cashville but you ain't got no cash
Say my name now your fucking ass nigga
Kept your mouth and I gave 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 to put him in heaven
Tryna the game, talking shit up on the stereo
for burial, it's when I'm reincarnating Harry-O
And you don't want that David 'cause you love life
Get my Vibe, when it's war he out butter knifes
I'ma show you who the gangsta
All you do is Murder Inc., now who the
Suge had you, you were stranded on Tha Row
Juve you for dead and went back to the NO
50 you on the tour bus and felt your little flow
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 my nigga Jojo to get it back
He had the shit in his hands, and you ain't had the ten
Picture that, I thought we was
you ran and told 50 that I did that shit
Ask C-Murder, the boy ain't to find
I told Monica when I him The Boy is Mine
one shot of Brandy and pop
Watch his 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 boxed
Got 20 bars to go, lay it down like rock
Don't worry the flow, the boy know he hot
Hurricanes in store November, nigga Reebocks
I'm fly like a Hummingbird on a 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
Remember it was Buddens, then it was Bleek
Now it's whoever muthafucka, yeah, who want
Now whenever muthafucka, who see me?
In the coffin, exhausted, resting in peace
You want war nigga, you want peace
So give 'em the peace, (sp?)
Let 'em in peace
From to east the flow is outdatable, irreplacable
Lyrical homicide, is hot, I'm boxing with Satan
And I 'em the ace, you cannot replace 'em
If ever decide to return, I remain Jayceon
A king in the making, and the throne is for the
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 me from taking it over
is crack music, go get the baking soda
300 and Runnin, nigga the wait is over
I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone