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 fuck with

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

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

300 and Runnin
Just loan me your for 15 minutes
with 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 he sober
Like I'm the president, but this the takeover
Now, there's the speaker, bring your a little closer
Before you call a diss, and you make Hova pissed
Why would I wanna do that? I'm just the new cat
That was if a ***** take shots to shoot back
his yard, yeah standing his ground
I'm saying if you 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, let the lines speak to 'em
What they say? Bleek is over let and Neef do it
They say the thing, I'ma smack 'em silly
What you thought? Them was the only *****z rapped in Philly?
See them *****z the soonies leave you wrapped in Philly
Then dash in groups like Beanie Mac in
?? Curtis Jack in Philly
a U-turn, I gotta go back to Philly
I forgot my cheese stake, that's what I the cops
So they get the dogs start searching for the glock
And I forget, B.I.G. got murdered by the cops
Even I was Ready To Die, when I heard he was shot
What's beef? Beef is I murk you on the spot
Labels signing many things, still 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 only he got
When it's beef we eat, we win, but we ain't 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 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 rapper, check your 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 up where my homeboy Eazy stopped
I saw the west coast, put the on my back
Sprayed Aftermath on it, then loosened the
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 them the rooster's
Call Jadakiss, tell him duke is back
I'm by your side, no matter who comes strapped
Lloyd Banks, it ain't about who can rap
It's when the ruger clap, is rufus back
I see what you thinkin, you me to die, is that so?
Now you left leaning back, to Fat Joe
You got in heaven, you ready? Let's go
them off, then 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, beef is foolish see
*****z running their mouth about what the fuck gon' do to me
But quit the yapping before I to clapping
And you see the captain with plans of getting me captured
Even bars, I'm still gon' shine
I'm 10 younger than Yayo, I get out, I'm fine
Then I go right back, ***** I pop
How you drop Olivia, you only drop dimes
I knew you changed, when you sleeping in that vest dog
I don't 50 Cent, my *****z make collect calls
a faggot ***** wig
He got G-Unit wings, them off the Queens Bridge
Now your is over, career is over
We in QB, banging CNN in the
T-O-N-Y, that's the phony
You ain't the talk of New York, 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 wanna rhyme like 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, them nursery rhymes
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 with your rhymes
All he gon' you is say G-Unit one more time
Got mad 'cause I ain't wanna make beef mine
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 mom, and you ain't fucked with that
Then you lied about your pops, he never bust no cap
Like Father, Like Son, go ask Busta
I knew from the not to trust those cats
I'd kill 'em all, if I could bring back
The underground is mine, I treat it like
It's the reason saying my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it like
It's the reason saying my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I it like home
It's the reason saying my name like Mike Jones
I
The underground is mine, I treat it like
It's the *****z saying my name like Mike Jones
And I'm far Houston but you can chop it and screw it
Do whatever to it, but it in the store the moving
'em a hundred bars, they ain't think I could do it
Came with two hundred, ***** is more than music
Even Dre knew it, boy hot like summer
feet in the dirt, 300 Bars and Runnin
And I beef with any *****, say my name I'm gunnin'
You can put it on skee if you it
air you out on Drama King, Mike, or Clue
And watch them 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 bruised ribs
Don't hit me on the sidekick what you did
Get a gun or ask 50's to use his
'cause gonna get ya
Bloods Bloods Bloods gonna get ya for that Shadyville
380 spill brains, when I pop shots
Outside NY, in of hip-hop cops
Or broad day in L.A., tell Em and Dre
This ***** my music, ain't nothing 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 fucking with Jayceon, you can 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 cheese
the DJ off your name, Mr. Instant replay
Not the instant
I mean the machine that G-Unit use every time 50 on stage singing
only feel your shit just a lil bit
*****z only feel your just a lil bit
On my album 50 helped me a lil bit
on two songs, now back to some killa shit
My clips bananas, I kill a quick
Beating on your chest, I see to death, yep
Tell to make him a suit
Tell Reebock to him some 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 blacked out and let the gun 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 latin
'cause if your left with the Aryans your ass sting
And cell mate is a 25 to lifer
stab you at Folsom then fuck you on Rikers
And Goes On
Now back to the coward of the hour who lied and said he write my
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 tough before I 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 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 think I'm locin' up
Reverse the '05 hurse on and traffic, what
Hip-Hop cops on my left, but I 'em up
The got a hemmy in it, Game got a Remy in 'em
In and out of lanes a New York cab
I'm Mr. Ol' King, that New cab
Who's this fake *****, on with the Jake *****?
Got his crew starving 'cause he the whole cake, *****
He Nas, ain't B.I.G., ain't Jigga
If he ain't Cube or Pac who you got?
We tired of you talkin about who you shot
use another six bars to tell you who you not
You ain't 50 Cent, he went out like a
You went out with Vivica, three months wanksta
Get or Die Tryin, we thought you was hot
Now the same ***** take us to the Candy Shop
man, what happened to the thug?
Now you could find in the club, him and Lloyd Banks
***** got mad when The Game start
So fuck making friends now I'm into throwing
Olivia talking about we a family, 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 shake hands, or wear your G-Unit shoes
Don't want you on my hooks, don't wanna be in group
wanna sit here and wait
To be gone, so I can head to the block
Fresh white Nike airs and the matching socks

Pull the brim low, if they get it
Bentley on gold daytons, I was the first one with it
times platinum, I done been there and did it
Came in the game and shitted, then my ass with it
They say the Lord givth, if Lord take it
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 make a
So they can put me in the squad car and me away
me a odd job in the pen for minimum pay
Let me out so I can drive criminal way
Pushing the rock, nah 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 them shells going my gauge
I 'em off to Dre, he turned them into granades
And Just Blaze, 'cause the boy got
Like I my eyes, and woke up in a Roc chain
Now to reality, my gun and my vest
And if diamonds are forever, I'm Kanye West
Take a look at my chest, a thou at jacob
Whole crew got chains, a hundred can't break 'em
And the flow is hot 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 Swap meet, to get me some
Game in the house, they callin all cars
'cause heard about what went on in D.C.
Heard Hot 97, my beef 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 this
I'd rather be pushing rock, like Ronson
50 in my ear, like we still bonding
We ain't friends, I'm just like Charles Bronson
Middle finger in the air, one hand on my
Hip-Hop police on me like I'm the
What to the old school? I thought it was rhyming
Doug E. Fresh and Daina Dane on the corner Common
Now that ain't common, it's like Top Ramen
The flow is noodles, I throw it up vomit
And I still shine like
They kicked me out of G-Unit and I rebounded Rodman
still Aftermath, two feet 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 denim
Chip on my shoulder like I'm fresh prison
Dollar vision, blow a hundred like my wallet missing
Then re-up like kid before the
Continuously getting money with my up
Chasing the throne, here my Air Force
I said fuck Benzino and got the 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 impersonations on two tracks
When I wake the dead, remove hats
We miss ya'll, can I get a hand
Now back to rap, why I stay strapped?
On that T-I-P, kill you ASAP
They won't know 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 Cashville but you ain't got no nigga?
Say my name now that's your ass nigga
Kept your mouth and I gave you a pass nigga
Now I gotta lay you like the last nigga
Buck, buck, buck my AK-47
nigga playing with his life, I might have to put him in heaven
Tryna play the game, talking shit up on the
for burial, it's when I'm reincarnating Harry-O
And you don't want David 'cause you love your life
Get my Vibe, it's war he pull out butter knifes
Muthafucka I'ma show you who the
All you do is Murder Inc., now who the
When Suge had you, you were on Tha Row
Juve left you for dead and went to the NO
50 heard you on the tour bus and your little flow
Then he made you replacement for Yayo
You a bitch, and that's hard to
And you got robbed for your spinning G-Unit chain in
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 that
Ask C-Murder, the boy ain't hard to
I told when I catch him The Boy is Mine
Take one shot of and pop
Watch his panties drop, when I run inside the Candy
Fuck you, 50, Banks, Yayo, and the
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
Don't about the flow, the boy know he hot
Hurricanes in store November, nigga fuck
I'm fly a Hummingbird on a tree top
The new Hov, the new B.I.G., the new 'Pac, I need spots
280 in, ain't no me back
I'm fuck the world, on my victory lap
Remember it was Buddens, then it was Bleek
Now it's muthafucka, yeah, who want beef?
Now muthafucka, who wanna see me?
In the coffin, body exhausted, 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 flow is outdatable,
Lyrical homicide, hell is hot, I'm boxing with
And I slipped 'em the ace, you replace 'em
If Eazy ever decide to return, I 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 on my shoulder
Not a nigga nor a hoodrat bitch can stop me taking it over
This is crack music, go get the soda
300 Bars and Runnin, nigga the is over
I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone