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 a muthafucka
Don't fuck Game

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

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

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

Here the breakdown, the doja, .45 in the holster
Hollow tips'll fold 'em, *****z they toy soldiers
Oh, that boy colder than Hova unless he
Like I'm the president, but this ain't the
Now, there's the speaker, bring ears a little closer
Before you call this a diss, and you make Hova
Why would I wanna do that? When I'm the new cat
That was taught if a ***** take shots to back
Defending his yard, yeah his ground
I'm saying if you gonna retire, then hand me the
Nah, let Bleek do it, throw him a concert in Madison square
Watch everybody through it
We can go bar for bar, I'll let the lines 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 *****z rapped in Philly?
See them *****z with the soonies you wrapped in Philly
Then dash in like Beanie Mac in Philly
?? said Curtis Jack in
a U-turn, I gotta go back to Philly
I forgot my cheese stake, what I told the cops
So they wouldn't get the start searching for the glock
And I forget, B.I.G. got murdered by the cops
Even I was To Die, when I heard that he was shot
What's beef? Beef is when I you on the spot
Labels signing many things, still for they Pac
I put on the block
So I feel threatened 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 beef we eat, we win, but we 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 I bet 10 G's you flop
Run up on new 300 C you got
Stop hoping I fall, hope the stop
And I hope you black out you see the cops
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, your CD shop
I'm like Elvis in there, they can't he dropped
Now I'm moving on up to and Weezy's spot
I picked up where my homeboy stopped
I saw the west coast, put the shit on my
Aftermath on it, then loosened the strap
It get hot in here, let rap
Bring hell to when Dre producing a track
it to the streets, put the duece duece to your hat
Then up the pigs, tell them the rooster's back
Call Jadakiss, tell him that duke is
I'm still by your side, no matter who comes
Fuck Lloyd Banks, it about who can rap
It's about the ruger clap, is rufus back
I see what you thinkin, you want me to die, is so?
Now you leaning back, thanks to Fat Joe
You got reservations in heaven, you Let's go
Drop them off, then pop 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, beef is kinda see
*****z running mouth about what the fuck they gon' do to me
But quit the yapping before I to clapping
And you gon' see the captain with plans of me captured
behind 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' drop Olivia, you drop dimes
I knew you changed, you started sleeping in that vest dog
I don't 50 Cent, my *****z make collect calls
a faggot ***** 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 ain't the talk of New York, your sixteens is
that shit off lingo, go back to PC
And tell 50 Cent you a copy of Beef 3
I'm their ass out on DVD
You wanna like Lloyd Banks repeat after me
I'm a toy soldier
On Sesame street doing voice
Bitch ass ***** need a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his
Sound like Oscar the Grouch, with nursery rhymes
We was in the studio, when I got signed
He got stuck, he called 50 tryna borrow some
That's the wrong *****, when you need 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 lucky with Ja, why you aint go at
He from the pen, that's just the fact
Said he'd put you with your mom, and you ain't fucked with
you lied about your pops, he ain't never bust no cap
Like Father, Like Son, go ask that
I knew from the not to trust those cats
I'd kill 'em all, if I bring Justo back
The underground is mine, I treat it like
It's the reason *****z saying my name like Jones
The is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason saying my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it like
It's the reason *****z saying my like Mike Jones
I
The underground is mine, I treat it home
the reason *****z saying my name like Mike Jones
And I'm far from Houston but you can it and screw it
Do to it, but it in the store the shit moving
Gave 'em a hundred bars, ain't think I could do it
Came with two hundred, ***** this is more 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 I'm gunnin'
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 ribs
Don't hit me on the sidekick what 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
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, then put it on his
So take him out his house, put the beam on his face
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 them 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 instant
I mean the machine G-Unit use every time 50 on stage singing like
only feel your shit just a lil bit
*****z feel your shit just a lil bit
On my 50 helped me just a lil bit
on two songs, now back to some killa shit
My clips bananas, I kill a gorilla
on your chest, I see to your death, yep
Tell to make him a suit
Tell Reebock to make him boots
Get him a head band, to cover the in his head
He a dead man for thinking he can walk through muddy waters Redman
Banks out and let the gun blam without a M-E-T-H-O-D Man
So the lieutenant ask for his strings
Take my advice, never air max for the pen
you one of the Bloods, or a latin king
'cause if your left with the your ass will sting
And your cell mate is a 25 to
stab you at Folsom then fuck you on Rikers
And Goes On
Now back to the coward of the who lied and said he write my songs
He told Dre was gonna leave me on the shelf
So he me all his hits, you should've kept them for yourself
***** stop acting before I stand over you
you how The Documentary live on top of The Massacre
Make a move I'm your ass to the last one
Ten shots from the Mack empty the rest in the
Fase yelling enough, let the coroner bag him up
in Makaveli and lift the doors on the Maganum
Gun smoking, think I'm locin' backing up
Reverse the '05 hurse on and traffic, what
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 lanes like a New cab
I'm Mr. Ol' King, New York cab
Who's this fake *****, on pictures the Jake *****?
Got his crew starving 'cause he aint the cake, *****
He ain't Nas, B.I.G., ain't Jigga
If he ain't Cube or Pac then who you
We tired of you talkin about who you shot
I'll use another six bars to you who you not
You 50 Cent, he went out like a gangsta
You went out Vivica, three months after wanksta
Get Rich or Die Tryin, we you was hot
Now the same ***** wanna take us to the Candy
C'mon man, happened to the thug?
Now you could find in the club, him and Banks hugging
***** got mad when The start buzzing
So fuck friends now I'm into throwing slugs
Olivia talking we a family, Game had to go
***** I'll smack that ho I'm Jackie-O
'cause I don't wanna be cool, I don't 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 to the block
Fresh white airs and the matching socks fitted

Pull the brim low, if they get it
Coup on gold daytons, I was the first one with it
Four times platinum, I been there 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 a house 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 a mistake
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 down criminal way
the rock, nah this 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 shells going into my
I hand 'em off to Dre, he turned them into
And Just Blaze, 'cause the boy got
Like I close my eyes, and woke up in a Roc
Now to reality, my gun and my vest
And if diamonds are forever, then I'm West
Take a at my chest, a hundred thou at jacob
Whole crew got chains, a hundred can't break 'em
And the is hot like that wit Satan
And the only thing I got is Daytons
The hotter I get the willing to snake 'em
So soon as the beat drop, watch where I 'em
Compton meet, to get me some All-Stars
When Game in the house, they all cars
'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, 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, we still bonding
We ain't friends, I'm just acting Charles Bronson
finger in the air, one hand on my Johnson
Hip-Hop on me like I'm the convict
happened to the old school? I thought it was rhyming
Doug E. Fresh and Daina Dane on the corner like
Now that ain't common, it's like Top Ramen
The flow is noodles, I throw it up like
And I still shine like
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 stop I because
I'm in the politican, Impala liffin'
And I keep a black .45 on the side of my prada
on my shoulder like I'm fresh outta prison
Dollar vision, a hundred thou like my wallet missing
re-up like kid before the d-cup
Continuously money with my feet up
Chasing the throne, here my Air Force
I said Benzino and got the cover of The Source
Feel me? If not then I guess you gotta me
But you ain't do that so muthafucka move back
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 back to rap, why I gotta strapped?
On that T-I-P, kill you ASAP
They won't know which hole to patch up, the K clap
I tried to spare you Buck, now it's time for payback
It go, how you Cashville but you ain't got no cash nigga?
Say my name now that's your fucking ass
Kept mouth shut and I gave you a pass nigga
Now I gotta lay you down the last nigga
Buck, buck, from my AK-47
nigga playing with his life, I might have to put him in heaven
Tryna the game, talking shit up on the stereo
Prepare for burial, when I'm reincarnating Harry-O
And you don't want that David 'cause you your life
Get my Vibe, it's war he pull out butter knifes
I'ma 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 your flow
Then he made you temporary replacement for
You a bitch, and that's hard to
And you got robbed for your spinning chain in Chicago
I call my nigga to get it back
He had the shit in his hands, and you had the ten stacks
that, I thought we was G-Unit
Then you ran and told 50 that I did shit
Ask C-Murder, the boy ain't to find
I told Monica I catch him The Boy is Mine
Take one 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 just boxed
Got 20 to go, lay it down like sheet rock
Don't worry 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 need three
280 in, no getting me back
I'm fuck the world, on my victory lap
Remember first it was Buddens, it was Bleek
Now it's whoever muthafucka, yeah, who want
Now whenever muthafucka, who see me?
In the coffin, body exhausted, in peace
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 Satan
And I 'em the ace, you cannot replace 'em
If Eazy ever decide to return, I Jayceon
A in the making, and the throne is for the taking
So I climb the mountain top and put my in
Got the weight of the world on my
Not a nor a hoodrat bitch can stop me from taking it over
This is crack music, go get the baking
300 Bars and Runnin, the wait is over
I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone