Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Runnin'

My mama took me to Sam
I wanted to buy a 50 CD
I took that home
That shit was wack like a
fuck with Game

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

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 to be on some radio Raheim shit
Man that shit sound like Vanessa 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
with me

Here the breakdown, pass the doja, .45 in the
Hollow fold 'em, them *****z they toy soldiers
Oh, that boy colder Hova unless he sober
I'm the president, but this ain't the takeover
Now, the speaker, bring your ears a little closer
Before you call this a diss, and you make Hova
Why would I do that? When I'm just the new cat
That was taught if a ***** take to shoot back
Defending his yard, yeah standing his
I'm saying if you gonna retire, then me the crown
Nah, let Bleek do it, throw him a concert in Madison square
Watch everybody sleep 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 wrong thing, I'ma 'em silly
you thought? Them was the only *****z that rapped in Philly?
See them *****z with the leave you wrapped in Philly
Then dash in groups Beanie Mac in Philly
?? said Curtis in Philly
Make a U-turn, I gotta go back to
I my cheese stake, that's what I told the cops
So they get the dogs start searching for the glock
And I can't forget, B.I.G. got murdered by the
Even I was Ready To Die, I heard that he was shot
What's beef? is when I murk you on the spot
Labels signing things, still searching for they Pac
I put purple on the
So I don't feel threatened 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 ain't 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 you black out before you see the cops
I ain't High Top Colors, I'm from Cedar Block
i got in my high tops will make your breathing stop
I'm a gangsta slash rapper, check CD shop
I'm like in there, they can't believe he dropped
Now I'm moving on up to and Weezy's spot
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 hell to *****z Dre producing a track
it to the streets, put the duece duece to your hat
Then call up the pigs, tell them the rooster's
Call Jadakiss, tell him duke is back
I'm still by your side, no matter who comes
Fuck Lloyd Banks, it about who can rap
about when the ruger clap, is rufus back
I see what you thinkin, you me to die, is that so?
Now you leaning back, thanks to Fat Joe
You got reservations in heaven, you Let's go
Drop off, then 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, beef is kinda see
*****z their 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
Even behind bars, I'm still gon'
I'm 10 years younger 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 started sleeping in that dog
I don't need 50 Cent, my *****z collect calls
a faggot ***** wig
He got G-Unit wings, throw them off the Queens
Now your career is over, career is
We in QB, CNN in the rover
T-O-N-Y, that's the NORE
You ain't the talk of New York, sixteens is boring
Take 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 G-Unit toy
On Sesame street voice overs
ass ***** need a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his lines
Sound Oscar the Grouch, with them nursery rhymes
We was in the studio, when I got signed
He got stuck, he 50 tryna borrow some lines
That's the wrong *****, you need help with your rhymes
All he gon' tell you is say G-Unit one more
Got mad 'cause I wanna make your 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 with that
Then you lied your pops, he ain't never bust no cap
Like Father, Son, go ask Busta that
I knew the beginning 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 like Mike Jones
The is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason *****z saying my name Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it like
It's the reason *****z my name like Mike Jones
I
The underground is mine, I treat it 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 to it, but it in the store the shit moving
Gave 'em a hundred bars, ain't think I could do it
with two hundred, ***** this is more than music
Even Dre knew it, that boy hot summer
feet 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
I'll air you out on Drama King, Mike, or
And watch them shits sell out like a Air shoe
I told Funk Flex when I catch the ***** Kid
We see if he know how to DJ with bruised ribs
Don't hit me on the sidekick what you did
Get a gun or ask police to use his
'cause gonna get ya
Bloods Bloods Bloods gonna get ya for that Shadyville
That 380 spill brains, when I pop
Outside NY, in of hip-hop cops
Or broad day in L.A., I'ma Em and Dre
This ***** bootlegging my music, nothing for him to say
me off my own songs, then put it on his tapes
So I'ma him out his house, put the beam on his face
Drop him off at Terror Squad, let him scream for the
when you fucking with Jayceon, you can believe in L.A.
For caking off *****z on them CD's and
Ask them to scratch a record, you will see he
If 50 was Puffy, run and go get him a cheese cake
Take the DJ off your name, Mr. Instant
Not the replay
I mean the that G-Unit use every time 50 on stage singing like
only feel your shit just a lil bit
*****z only feel shit 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 Ecko to make him a
Tell to make 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 like Redman
Banks out and let the gun blam 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 the Aryans your ass will sting
And your cell mate is a 25 to
They'll stab you at then fuck you on Rikers
And Goes On
Now back to the coward of the hour who lied and said he my songs
He told Vibe Dre was gonna me on the shelf
So he gave me all his hits, you should've kept for yourself
***** acting tough before I stand over you
Show you how The Documentary on top of The Massacre
Make a move I'm blasting your ass to the one
Ten shots from the Mack the rest in the passenger
Fase yelling enough, let the coroner bag him up
Throw in Makaveli and lift the on the Maganum
Gun smoking, think I'm locin' backing up
Reverse the '05 on 41st and traffic, what
cops 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, New York cab
Who's this fake *****, on pictures 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 who you got?
We getting of you talkin about 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 out with Vivica, three months after wanksta
Get or Die Tryin, we thought you was hot
Now the same ***** wanna us to the Candy Shop
C'mon man, happened to the thug?
Now you could find in the club, him and Banks hugging
***** got mad The Game start buzzing
So fuck making friends now I'm into slugs
Olivia talking about we a family, had to go
***** I'll that ho like I'm Jackie-O
'cause I wanna be cool, I don't wanna be you
I don't wanna shake hands, or wear your shoes
Don't you on my hooks, don't wanna be in your group
Just wanna sit and wait
To be gone, so I can head to the block
Fresh white Nike 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
in the game and shitted, then wiped my ass with it
They say the givth, if Lord take it away
So I build a house on top of Hip-Hop, wait for the day
*****z hating on me, they don't want to play
And the DA waiting on Jayceon to a mistake
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 down criminal way
Pushing the rock, nah this no subliminal Jay
The summer too hot, and I want the to stay
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 granades
And Just Blaze, the boy got game
I close 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 at my chest, a hundred thou at jacob
Whole crew got chains, a hundred thou break 'em
And the is hot like that wit Satan
And the only thing I got spinning is
The hotter I get the more to snake 'em
So soon as the beat drop, where I take 'em
Compton meet, to get me some All-Stars
When Game in the house, they callin all
'cause they heard what went on in D.C.
about Hot 97, my beef with 50

Now me do he got a conscience?
I think not, 'cause if he did I wouldn't be involved in nonsense
Wouldn't be in Harlem, wouldn't be at this
I'd rather be rock, like Samantha Ronson
50 in my ear, like we still bonding
We ain't friends, I'm just acting like Charles
Middle finger in the air, one on my Johnson
Hip-Hop on me like I'm the convict
What happened to the old school? I thought it was
Doug E. and Daina Dane on the corner like Common
Now that ain't common, it's more like Top
The flow is noodles, I throw it up like
And I still shine diamonds
They kicked me out of G-Unit and I rebounded Rodman
It's still Aftermath, two feet in the shit.
I be mad, I ain't, I'm to stop I can't because
I'm in the politican, Impala liffin'
And I keep a black .45 on the side of my denim
on my shoulder like I'm fresh outta prison
Dollar vision, a hundred thou like my wallet missing
Then re-up kid before the d-cup
getting money with my feet up
Chasing the throne, my black Air Force
I said fuck Benzino and got the of The Source
Feel me? If not I guess you gotta kill me
But you ain't gon' do so muthafucka move back
While I do B.I.G. and 'Pac impersonations on two
When I wake the dead, remove hats
We miss ya'll, can I get a hand
Now back to rap, why I gotta strapped?
On murder T-I-P, kill you ASAP
They won't know which to patch up, when the K clap
I to spare 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 fucking ass nigga
Kept your mouth shut and I gave you a nigga
Now I gotta lay you down like the last
Buck, buck, from 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 that David you love your life
Get my Vibe, when it's war he out butter knifes
I'ma show you who the gangsta
All you do is Murder Inc., now who the
When Suge had you, you stranded on Tha Row
left 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 G-Unit chain in
I call my nigga Jojo to get it
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 hard to
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 Candy
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 rock
Don't worry the flow, the boy know he hot
Hurricanes in store November, fuck Reebocks
I'm fly like a 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 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, resting in
You don't want war nigga, you want
So 'em the peace, capiche (sp?)
Let 'em rest in
From west to east the flow is outdatable,
homicide, hell is hot, I'm boxing with Satan
And I slipped 'em the ace, you cannot 'em
If Eazy ever decide to return, I remain
A king in the making, and the is for the taking
So I climb the mountain top and put my in
Got the weight of the world on my
Not a nigga nor a hoodrat bitch can stop me taking it over
This is crack music, go get the baking
300 Bars and Runnin, nigga the is over
I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone