Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Runnin'

My mama took me to Sam
I to buy a 50 Cent CD
I took that shit
That shit was wack like a
Don't fuck with

I 50 Cent
He reminds me
And Tony Yayo is Blues
And Banks is Dora the Explorer
my friends

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

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

Here the breakdown, pass the doja, .45 in the
Hollow tips'll fold 'em, them *****z toy soldiers
Oh, that boy than Hova unless he sober
Like I'm the president, but this the takeover
Now, there's the speaker, bring your ears a little
you call this a diss, and you make Hova pissed
Why I wanna do that? When I'm just the new cat
That was taught if a ***** take shots to shoot
his yard, yeah standing his ground
I'm saying if you gonna retire, then hand me the
Nah, let Bleek do it, then throw him a concert in square
Watch everybody sleep it
We can go bar for bar, I'll let the speak to 'em
What they Bleek is over let Chris and Neef do it
They say the thing, I'ma smack 'em silly
What you thought? Them was the only *****z that rapped in
See them with the soonies leave you wrapped in Philly
Then dash in groups like Mac in Philly
?? said Jack in Philly
Make a U-turn, I gotta go to Philly
I my cheese stake, that's what I told the cops
So they wouldn't get the dogs searching for the glock
And I can't forget, B.I.G. got by the cops
Even I was Ready To Die, I heard that he was shot
What's beef? Beef is I murk you on the spot
Labels signing many things, still for they Pac
I put purple on the
So I don't feel when Ludacris 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 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
Stop I fall, hope the bleeding stop
And I hope you black out before you see the
I High 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 stopped
I saw the coast, put the shit on my back
Sprayed Aftermath on it, then the strap
It get hot in here, let rap
Bring hell to *****z when Dre a track
Take it to the streets, put the duece duece to hat
Then call up the pigs, tell them the rooster's
Call Jadakiss, tell him that is back
I'm still by your side, no matter who strapped
Fuck Banks, it ain't about who can rap
It's about the ruger 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 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 back was he had a 3-4
Now the eulogy, beef is kinda foolish see
*****z running their mouth about what the fuck they do to me
But quit the yapping before I proceed to
And you gon' see the captain with plans of getting me
Even bars, I'm still gon' shine
I'm 10 years younger Yayo, I get out, I'm fine
Then I go right back, ***** I pop
How you gon' 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 ***** wig
He got G-Unit wings, throw off the Queens Bridge
Now career is over, career is over
We in QB, CNN in the rover
T-O-N-Y, the phony NORE
You the talk of New York, your sixteens is boring
that shit off lingo, go back to PC
And tell 50 you want a copy of Beef 3
I'm their ass out on DVD
You wanna rhyme like Lloyd repeat after me
I'm a G-Unit toy
On Sesame street doing voice
Bitch ass ***** need a rhyme dictionary, to his lines
Sound like Oscar the Grouch, with them nursery
We was in the studio, I first got signed
He got stuck, he called 50 tryna borrow lines
That's the wrong *****, when you help with 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 Ja, why you aint go at Shyne?
He from the pen, that's just the fact
Said he'd put you with your mom, and you fucked with that
Then you lied about your pops, he ain't bust no cap
Father, Like Son, go ask Busta that
I knew from the beginning not to trust cats
I'd 'em all, if I could bring Justo back
The underground is mine, I treat it like
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
The underground is mine, I treat it home
It's the reason saying my name like Mike Jones
I
The underground is mine, I it like home
It's the reason *****z 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 the shit moving
Gave 'em a hundred bars, they ain't think I do it
with two hundred, ***** this is more than music
Even Dre knew it, boy hot like summer
feet in the dirt, 300 Bars and Runnin
And I with any *****, say my name muthafuck I'm gunnin'
You can put it on if you want it
air you out on Drama King, Mike, or Clue
And watch them shits out like a Air Jordon shoe
I told Funk Flex when I the ***** Whoo Kid
We gon' see if he 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 gonna get ya
Bloods Bloods Bloods gonna get ya for that chain
That 380 spill brains, when I pop
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, put it on his tapes
So I'ma take him out his house, put the beam on his
Drop him off at Terror Squad, let him for the jakes
'cause you fucking with Jayceon, you can believe in L.A.
For caking off *****z on CD's and tapes
Ask to scratch a record, you will see he fake
If 50 was Puffy, run and go get him a cheese cake
Take the DJ off your name, Mr. replay
Not the instant
I the machine that G-Unit use every time 50 on stage singing like
only feel your shit just 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 to some killa shit
My clips bananas, I kill a quick
on your chest, I see to your death, yep
Tell to make him a suit
Tell to make him some boots
Get him a head band, to cover the holes in his
He a dead man for thinking he can walk through 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
Take my advice, wear air max for the pen
you one of the Bloods, or a latin king
'cause if your left 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 back to the coward of the 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 them for yourself
***** stop acting before I stand over you
Show you how The Documentary live on top of The
Make a move I'm blasting ass to the last one
Ten shots from the empty 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, think 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 in it, Game got a Remy in 'em
In and out of like a New York cab
I'm Mr. Ol' King, that New cab
Who's this *****, on pictures with the Jake *****?
Got his crew starving 'cause he aint the whole cake,
He ain't Nas, ain't B.I.G., Jigga
If he ain't Cube or Pac then who you
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 months 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 The Game start buzzing
So fuck friends now I'm into throwing slugs
Olivia about we a family, Game had to go
I'll smack that ho like I'm Jackie-O
'cause I don't be cool, I don't wanna be you
I wanna shake hands, or wear your G-Unit shoes
Don't want you on my hooks, don't wanna be in your
Just wanna sit and wait
To be gone, so I can head back to the
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 times platinum, I done been and did it
in the game and shitted, then wiped my ass with it
They say the Lord givth, if take it away
So I build a house on top of Hip-Hop, wait for the day
*****z hating on me, they want 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 down 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 ***** when I put the pen to the
Similar to shells going into my gauge
I 'em off to Dre, he turned them into granades
And Blaze, 'cause the boy got game
Like I my eyes, and woke up in a Roc chain
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 wit Satan
And the only thing I got spinning is
The I get the more willing to snake 'em
So soon as the drop, watch where I take 'em
Compton meet, to get me some All-Stars
Game in the house, they callin all cars
'cause heard about 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 wouldn't be involved in this
Wouldn't be in Harlem, wouldn't be at conference
I'd be pushing 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 on my Johnson
police 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 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 supposed to stop I because
I'm in the politican, Impala liffin'
And I a black .45 on the side of my prada denim
Chip on my shoulder I'm fresh outta prison
Dollar vision, blow a hundred like my wallet missing
Then re-up like kid before the
Continuously getting money with my up
the throne, here 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
I do B.I.G. and 'Pac impersonations on two tracks
When I wake the dead, everybody remove
We miss ya'll, can I get a hand
Now to rap, why I gotta stay strapped?
On that murder T-I-P, you ASAP
They won't know which 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 nigga?
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 like the last
Buck, buck, buck from my
This playing with his life, I might have to put him in heaven
Tryna play the game, talking up on the stereo
Prepare for burial, when I'm reincarnating Harry-O
And you want that David 'cause you love your life
Get my Vibe, it's war he pull out butter knifes
Muthafucka I'ma you who the gangsta
All you do is Murder Inc., now who the
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 your little
he made you temporary replacement for Yayo
You a bitch, and that's to swallow
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 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
Take one shot of and pop
Watch his panties drop, when I run 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, I just 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, nigga fuck
I'm fly like a Hummingbird on a 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
Remember first it was Buddens, it was Bleek
Now it's whoever muthafucka, yeah, who beef?
Now whenever muthafucka, who see me?
In the coffin, exhausted, resting in peace
You don't war nigga, you want peace
So 'em the peace, capiche (sp?)
Let 'em rest in
From west to east the is outdatable, irreplacable
homicide, hell 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 in the making, and the throne is for the taking
So I the mountain top and put my stake in
Got the weight of the world on my
Not a nigga nor a bitch can stop me from taking it over
This is crack music, go get the soda
300 and Runnin, nigga the wait is over
I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone