Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Runnin'

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

I like 50
He me Spongebob
And Tony is Blues Clues
And Lloyd is Dora the Explorer
my friends

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

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

Here the breakdown, the doja, .45 in the holster
Hollow tips'll fold 'em, *****z they toy soldiers
Oh, boy colder than Hova unless he sober
Like I'm the president, but this ain't the
Now, there's the speaker, bring your ears a closer
Before you call this a diss, and you Hova pissed
Why I wanna do that? When I'm just the new cat
That was taught if a ***** take shots to shoot
Defending his yard, standing his ground
I'm if you gonna retire, then hand me the crown
Nah, let do it, then 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
say the wrong thing, I'ma smack 'em silly
What you Them was the only *****z that rapped in Philly?
See them *****z with the soonies leave you in Philly
dash in groups like Beanie Mac in Philly
?? said Jack in Philly
Make a U-turn, I gotta go to Philly
I forgot my cheese stake, that's what I told the
So they wouldn't get the start searching for the glock
And I forget, B.I.G. got murdered by the cops
I was Ready To Die, when I heard that he was shot
What's beef? Beef is I murk you on the spot
signing many things, still searching for they Pac
I put on the block
So I don't feel threatened when 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 only 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 Yayo I bet 10 G's you
Run up on new 300 C you got
Stop hoping I fall, hope the bleeding
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 your breathing stop
I'm a gangsta slash rapper, check your CD
I'm like Elvis in there, they can't he dropped
Now I'm on up to George and Weezy's spot
I picked up where my homeboy stopped
I saw the west coast, put the shit on my
Sprayed Aftermath on it, then loosened the
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 up the pigs, tell them the rooster's back
Call Jadakiss, tell him duke is back
I'm still by your side, no who comes strapped
Fuck Lloyd Banks, it about who can rap
It's about when the ruger clap, is 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 Let's go
Drop them off, pop cristal 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 yapping before I proceed to
And you gon' see the captain with plans of getting me
Even behind bars, I'm 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, when you started sleeping in vest dog
I need 50 Cent, my *****z make collect calls
1-800-split a ***** wig
He got G-Unit wings, throw them off the Queens
Now your career is over, is over
We in QB, banging CNN in the
T-O-N-Y, the phony NORE
You ain't the of New York, your sixteens is boring
Take 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 Lloyd repeat after me
I'm a toy soldier
On Sesame street voice overs
Bitch ass ***** need a dictionary, to rehearse his lines
Sound like 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 rhymes
All he gon' tell you is say G-Unit one time
Got mad 'cause I ain't wanna make your mine
You got with Ja, why you aint go at Shyne?
He freestyled from the pen, that's just the
Said he'd put you with mom, and you ain't fucked with that
you lied about your pops, he ain't never bust no cap
Like Father, Son, go ask Busta that
I knew from the beginning not to trust those
I'd kill 'em all, if I could bring Justo
The underground is mine, I it like home
It's the reason *****z my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it like
It's the reason *****z saying my name Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I it like home
It's the reason *****z saying my name like Mike
I
The underground is mine, I treat it 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 store the moving
Gave 'em a hundred bars, they ain't I could do it
Came with two hundred, ***** this is than music
Dre knew it, that boy hot like summer
Both feet in the dirt, 300 and Runnin
And I beef with any *****, say my muthafuck I'm gunnin'
You can put it on if you want it
air you out on Drama King, Mike, or Clue
And watch shits sell out like a Air Jordon shoe
I told Funk Flex when I the ***** Whoo Kid
We gon' see if he know how to DJ with bruised
Don't hit me on the 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 cops
Or broad day in L.A., tell Em and Dre
This ***** bootlegging my music, ain't for him to say
Took me off my own songs, then put it on his
So I'ma him out his house, put the beam on his face
him off at Terror 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, you'd run and go get him a cheese
the DJ off your name, Mr. Instant replay
Not the replay
I mean the machine that G-Unit use time 50 on stage singing like
Bitches only feel your just a lil bit
*****z only feel shit just a lil bit
On my album 50 helped me a lil bit
Only on two songs, now back to some killa
My clips bananas, I kill a gorilla
Beating on chest, I see to your death, yep
Tell Ecko to him a suit
Tell Reebock to make him some
Get him a band, to cover the holes in his head
He a man for thinking he can walk through muddy waters like Redman
blacked out and let the gun blam without a M-E-T-H-O-D Man
So the lieutenant gotta ask for his
Take my advice, wear 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 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 from the Mack empty the rest in the passenger
Fase yelling enough, let the coroner bag him up
Throw in Makaveli and the doors on the Maganum
Gun smoking, Fase I'm locin' 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, got a Remy in 'em
In and out of lanes like a New 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 who you got?
We getting of you talkin about who you shot
I'll use six bars to tell you who you not
You ain't 50 Cent, he went out like a
You out with Vivica, three months after wanksta
Get Rich or Die Tryin, we you was hot
Now the same ***** wanna us to the Candy Shop
C'mon man, what to the thug?
Now you find in the club, him and Lloyd Banks hugging
***** got mad when The Game buzzing
So fuck making now I'm into throwing slugs
Olivia about we a family, Game had to go
***** I'll smack ho like I'm Jackie-O
'cause I don't be cool, I don't wanna be you
I don't wanna shake hands, or your G-Unit shoes
want you on my hooks, don't wanna be in your group
Just sit here and wait
To be gone, so I can back to the block
Fresh Nike airs and the matching socks fitted

Pull the low, if they don't get it
Bentley Coup on 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 a house on top of Hip-Hop, I'll wait for the day
*****z on me, they don't want Jayceon to play
And the DA waiting on Jayceon to a mistake
So they can put me in the car and lock 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 ain't no Jay
The summer too hot, and I the winter to stay
'cause I'm a cold when I put the pen to the page
Similar to them shells going my gauge
I hand 'em off to Dre, he turned them into
And Just Blaze, 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, then I'm Kanye
Take a look at my chest, a thou at jacob
Whole crew got chains, a hundred can't break 'em
And the is hot like that 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 meet, to get me some All-Stars
When Game in the house, callin all cars
they 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, if he did I wouldn't be involved in this nonsense
Wouldn't be in Harlem, wouldn't be at conference
I'd rather be pushing rock, Samantha Ronson
50 whispered in my ear, we still bonding
We ain't friends, I'm just acting like Charles
Middle finger in the air, one on my Johnson
police on me like I'm the convict
What happened to the old I thought it was rhyming
Doug E. Fresh and Dane on the corner like Common
Now ain't common, it's more like Top Ramen
The flow is noodles, I throw it up vomit
And I still 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 can't
I'm in the politican, Impala liffin'
And I keep a black .45 on the side of my prada
Chip on my shoulder like I'm fresh prison
vision, blow a hundred thou like my wallet missing
Then re-up like kid the d-cup
Continuously getting with my feet up
Chasing the throne, here my Air Force
I said fuck and got the cover of The Source
Feel me? If not then I you gotta kill me
But you gon' do that so muthafucka move back
While I do B.I.G. and 'Pac impersonations on two
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, you ASAP
They won't which hole to patch up, when the K clap
I tried to spare you Young Buck, now it's for payback
It go, how you from but you ain't got no cash nigga?
Say my name now that's fucking ass nigga
Kept mouth shut and I gave you a pass nigga
Now I gotta lay you down the last nigga
Buck, buck, buck from my
This nigga playing with his life, I have to put him in heaven
Tryna play the game, talking up on the stereo
Prepare for burial, it's when I'm reincarnating
And you want that David 'cause you love your life
Get my Vibe, when war he pull out butter knifes
Muthafucka show you who the gangsta
All you do is Inc., now who the wanksta?
When Suge had you, you stranded on Tha Row
Juve left you for dead and back to the NO
50 heard you on the tour bus and your little flow
Then he you temporary replacement for Yayo
You a bitch, and that's to swallow
And you got robbed for your spinning G-Unit in Chicago
I call my 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
Then you ran and told 50 that I did shit
Ask C-Murder, the boy ain't to find
I told when I catch him The Boy is Mine
one shot of Brandy and pop
Watch his panties drop, when I run inside the 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 to go, lay it down like sheet rock
worry about 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 getting me
I'm fuck the world, on my victory lap
Remember first it was Buddens, then it was
Now it's whoever muthafucka, yeah, who want
Now whenever muthafucka, who see me?
In the coffin, body exhausted, in peace
You don't want war nigga, you peace
So 'em the peace, capiche (sp?)
Let 'em in peace
From west to east the flow is outdatable,
Lyrical homicide, is hot, I'm boxing with Satan
And I slipped 'em the ace, you replace 'em
If ever decide to return, I remain Jayceon
A king in the making, and the throne is for the
So I climb the top and put my stake in
Got the weight of the world on my
Not a nigga nor a hoodrat can stop me from taking it over
This is crack music, go get the baking
300 and Runnin, nigga the wait is over
I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone