Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Runnin'

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

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

I went down one of them Bodaga shits right there in
Got me a bootleg Lloyd and Young Buck CD
that shit home, put it in my boom box
Thought I was bout to be on some radio shit
Man that shit like some Vanessa Williams '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 ears for 15
Walk me

the breakdown, pass the doja, .45 in the holster
Hollow tips'll fold 'em, them *****z toy soldiers
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 a little closer
Before you call this a diss, and you make pissed
Why I wanna do that? When I'm just the new cat
That was taught if a ***** take shots to back
his yard, yeah standing his ground
I'm if you gonna retire, then hand me the crown
Nah, let Bleek do it, then throw him a in Madison square
Watch everybody through it
We can go bar for bar, let the lines speak to 'em
What they say? Bleek is 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 with the soonies leave you wrapped in Philly
Then in groups like Beanie Mac in Philly
?? said Curtis Jack in
Make a U-turn, I gotta go back to
I forgot my cheese stake, that's what I the cops
So wouldn't get the dogs start searching for the glock
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? Beef is when I murk you on the
Labels many things, still searching for they Pac
I put on the block
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 the only homies he got
When it's beef we eat, we win, but we 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, the bleeding stop
And I you black out before you see the cops
I ain't High Top from Colors, I'm from Cedar
What i got in my high will make your breathing stop
I'm a gangsta slash rapper, check CD shop
I'm like Elvis in there, they can't he dropped
Now I'm moving on up to George and Weezy's
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 to your hat
Then call up the pigs, tell them the back
Jadakiss, tell him that duke is back
I'm still by your side, no who comes strapped
Fuck Banks, it ain't about who can rap
about 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 in heaven, you ready? Let's go
Drop them off, 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, is kinda foolish see
*****z running their mouth about what the fuck gon' do to me
But quit the yapping before I to clapping
And you gon' see the captain plans of getting me captured
Even 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
How you gon' Olivia, you only drop dimes
I knew you changed, when you started sleeping in vest dog
I don't need 50 Cent, my make collect calls
1-800-split a faggot wig
He got G-Unit wings, them off the Queens Bridge
Now your career is over, career is
We in QB, banging CNN in the
T-O-N-Y, that's the phony
You the talk of New York, your sixteens is boring
Take that off lingo, go back to PC
And tell 50 Cent you want a 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 Sesame doing voice overs
Bitch ass need a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his lines
Sound like Oscar the Grouch, 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' you is say G-Unit one more time
Got mad 'cause I wanna make your beef mine
You got lucky with Ja, why you aint go at
He freestyled from the pen, that's the fact
Said he'd put you with your mom, and you ain't with that
Then you lied about your pops, he never bust no cap
Like Father, Like Son, go ask that
I knew from the beginning not to those cats
I'd kill 'em all, if I could Justo back
The underground is mine, I it like home
It's the reason *****z my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I it like home
It's the reason *****z my name like Mike Jones
The is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason *****z saying my name like Mike
I
The is mine, I treat it like home
It's the *****z saying my name like Mike Jones
And I'm far from Houston but you can chop it and it
Do whatever to it, but it in the the shit moving
'em a hundred bars, they ain't think I could do it
Came with two hundred, ***** is more than music
Even Dre it, that boy hot like summer
Both in the dirt, 300 Bars and Runnin
And I beef with any *****, say my name muthafuck I'm
You can put it on if you want it
air you out on Drama King, Mike, or Clue
And them shits sell out like a Air Jordon shoe
I 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 Bloods gonna get ya for that chain
380 spill brains, when I pop shots
Outside NY, in front of hip-hop
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 take 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 on them 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 cake
Take the DJ off your name, Mr. Instant
Not the replay
I mean the machine that G-Unit use every 50 on stage singing like
Bitches only feel your shit a lil bit
*****z feel your shit just a lil bit
On my album 50 me just a lil bit
on two songs, now back to some killa shit
My clips bananas, I kill a quick
Beating on chest, I see to your death, yep
Tell Ecko to him a suit
Reebock to make 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 waters Redman
Banks blacked out and let the gun blam a M-E-T-H-O-D Man
So the lieutenant gotta ask for his
Take my advice, never 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 your mate is a 25 to lifer
They'll stab you at Folsom then you on Rikers
And Life On
Now back to the coward of the hour who lied and said he write my
He told Vibe Dre was gonna me on the shelf
So he gave me all his hits, you should've kept them for
***** stop tough 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 the Mack 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, Fase think I'm backing up
the '05 hurse on 41st and traffic, what
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 like a New York cab
I'm Mr. Ol' King, that New cab
this fake *****, on pictures with the Jake *****?
Got his crew starving 'cause he aint the cake, *****
He ain't Nas, ain't B.I.G., Jigga
If he ain't Cube or Pac then who you
We tired of you talkin about who you shot
I'll use six bars 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 wanna take us to the Candy Shop
C'mon man, happened to the thug?
Now you could in the club, him and Lloyd Banks hugging
***** got mad when The start buzzing
So fuck making friends now I'm into throwing
talking about we a family, Game had to go
***** I'll smack ho like I'm Jackie-O
'cause I don't wanna be cool, I don't be you
I don't wanna hands, or wear your G-Unit shoes
Don't want you on my hooks, wanna be in your group
Just wanna sit here and
To be gone, so I can head back to the
Fresh Nike airs and the matching socks fitted

Pull the brim low, if 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, wiped my ass with it
say the Lord givth, if Lord take it away
So I build a on top of Hip-Hop, I'll wait for the day
*****z hating on me, they don't want Jayceon to
And the DA waiting on Jayceon to make a
So they can put me in the squad car and lock me
Give me a odd job in the pen for 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 cold ***** when I put the pen to the
Similar to them shells into my gauge
I hand 'em off to Dre, he turned them into
And Blaze, 'cause the boy got game
I close my eyes, and woke up in a Roc chain
Now back to reality, my gun and my
And if diamonds are forever, I'm Kanye West
Take a at my chest, a hundred thou at jacob
Whole crew got chains, a hundred thou break 'em
And the flow is hot that wit Satan
And the thing I got spinning is Daytons
The hotter I get the willing to snake 'em
So soon as the beat drop, where I take 'em
Compton Swap meet, to get me All-Stars
When Game in the house, they callin all
'cause they heard about what on in D.C.
Heard about Hot 97, my beef 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 this
I'd be pushing rock, like Samantha Ronson
50 in my ear, like we still bonding
We ain't friends, I'm just acting Charles Bronson
Middle finger in the air, one on my Johnson
Hip-Hop on me like I'm the convict
What to the old school? I thought it was rhyming
Doug E. and Daina Dane on the corner like Common
Now that ain't common, it's like Top Ramen
The flow is noodles, I throw it up vomit
And I shine like diamonds
They kicked me out of G-Unit and I rebounded like
It's Aftermath, two feet in the paint shit.
I be mad, I ain't, I'm supposed to stop I because
I'm in the hood politican, liffin'
And I keep a black .45 on the of my prada denim
Chip on my like I'm fresh outta prison
vision, blow a hundred thou like my wallet missing
Then re-up like kid the d-cup
Continuously getting money my feet up
Chasing the throne, my black Air Force
I said fuck Benzino and got the cover of The
me? If not then I guess you gotta kill me
But you ain't gon' do so muthafucka move back
While I do B.I.G. and impersonations 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 stay
On that T-I-P, kill you ASAP
They won't know 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 but you ain't got no cash nigga?
Say my name now that's your ass nigga
Kept your mouth shut and I you a pass nigga
Now I gotta lay you like the last nigga
Buck, buck, buck from my
This nigga playing with his life, I have to put him in heaven
Tryna the game, talking shit up on the stereo
Prepare for burial, it's when I'm reincarnating
And you don't want David 'cause you love your life
Get my Vibe, when it's war he pull out butter
Muthafucka show you who the gangsta
All you do is Inc., now who the wanksta?
When had you, you were stranded on Tha Row
Juve you for dead and went back 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 hard to swallow
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 thought we was
Then you ran and told 50 that I did shit
Ask C-Murder, the boy hard to find
I told Monica when I him The Boy is Mine
one shot of Brandy and pop
Watch his panties drop, 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 sheet
Don't worry 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 three spots
280 in, no getting me back
I'm yelling the world, on my victory lap
first it was Buddens, then it was Bleek
Now whoever muthafucka, yeah, who want beef?
Now whenever muthafucka, who see me?
In the coffin, body exhausted, resting in
You don't want war nigga, you want
So give 'em the peace, (sp?)
Let 'em in peace
From to east the flow is outdatable, irreplacable
Lyrical homicide, hell is hot, I'm with Satan
And I slipped 'em the ace, you replace 'em
If Eazy ever decide to return, I remain
A in the making, and the throne 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 hoodrat bitch can stop me from taking it
This is crack music, go get the soda
300 Bars and Runnin, the wait is over
I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone