Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Runnin'

My mama me to Sam Goody's
I wanted to buy a 50 CD
I that shit home
That shit was wack a muthafucka
Don't fuck with

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

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

300 and Runnin
Just me your ears for 15 minutes
with me

Here the breakdown, pass the doja, .45 in the
Hollow tips'll 'em, them *****z they toy soldiers
Oh, that boy colder than Hova unless he
Like I'm the president, but ain't the takeover
Now, there's the speaker, bring your ears a little
Before you call a diss, and you make Hova pissed
Why would I do that? When I'm just the new cat
That was taught if a ***** take shots to shoot
Defending his yard, yeah standing his
I'm saying if you gonna retire, hand me the crown
Nah, let Bleek do it, then throw him a in Madison square
Watch everybody sleep it
We can go bar for bar, I'll let the lines to 'em
What say? Bleek is over let Chris and Neef do it
They say the wrong thing, 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 like Beanie Mac in Philly
?? said Jack in Philly
Make a U-turn, I gotta go back to
I forgot my cheese stake, that's what I the cops
So they wouldn't get the dogs start for the glock
And I can't forget, B.I.G. got by the cops
Even I was Ready To Die, when I heard that he was
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 feel threatened when Ludacris say he coming for the #1 spot
Ask 50, it get on top
You can hate me or 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 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 Block
What i got in my high tops will your breathing stop
I'm a slash rapper, check your CD shop
I'm Elvis in there, they can't believe he dropped
Now I'm moving on up to George and spot
I up where my homeboy 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 when Dre a track
Take it to the streets, put the duece to your hat
Then call up the pigs, them the rooster's back
Jadakiss, tell him that duke is back
I'm by your side, no matter who comes strapped
Fuck Banks, it ain't about who can rap
It's about when the ruger clap, is rufus
I see what you thinkin, you me to die, is that so?
Now you leaning back, thanks to Fat Joe
You got in heaven, you ready? Let's go
Drop them off, then pop 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 foolish see
*****z running their mouth about what the fuck gon' do to me
But the yapping before I proceed to clapping
And you see the captain with plans of getting me captured
Even behind bars, I'm gon' shine
I'm 10 years than Yayo, I get out, I'm fine
I go right back, ***** I pop mines
How you drop Olivia, you only drop dimes
I knew you changed, when you started sleeping in 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 of New York, your sixteens is boring
Take that shit off lingo, go to PC
And tell 50 Cent you want a of Beef 3
I'm airing ass out on DVD
You wanna rhyme like Lloyd Banks repeat me
I'm a toy soldier
On Sesame doing voice overs
Bitch ass ***** a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his lines
Sound like Oscar the Grouch, 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 with your rhymes
All he gon' you is say G-Unit one more time
Got mad 'cause I ain't wanna your beef mine
You got lucky with Ja, why you go at Shyne?
He freestyled from the pen, that's just the
Said he'd put you with your mom, and you fucked with that
Then you about your pops, he ain't 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 *****z saying my like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it like
It's the reason *****z my name like 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 like
It's the reason *****z 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, they think I could do it
Came 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 skee if you it
I'll air you out on Drama King, Mike, or
And them shits sell out like a Air Jordon shoe
I told Funk Flex when I catch the ***** 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 50's to use his
'cause Bloods get ya
Bloods Bloods gonna get ya for that Shadyville chain
That 380 spill brains, I pop shots
NY, in front of hip-hop cops
Or day in L.A., I'ma tell Em and Dre
This ***** bootlegging my music, 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
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 will see he
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 that G-Unit use time 50 on stage singing like
Bitches only feel shit just a lil bit
*****z only your 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 a gorilla quick
Beating on chest, I see to your death, yep
Ecko to make him a suit
Tell Reebock to him some boots
Get him a head band, to the holes in his head
He a dead man for thinking he can walk through muddy waters 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 latin
if your left with the Aryans your ass will sting
And your cell mate is a 25 to
They'll you at Folsom then fuck you on Rikers
And Goes On
Now back to the coward of the hour who lied and he write my songs
He told Vibe Dre was leave 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 live on top of The
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 the doors on the Maganum
Gun smoking, Fase think I'm locin' up
Reverse the '05 hurse on and traffic, what
Hip-Hop on my left, but I pass 'em up
The Dodge got a hemmy in it, Game got a in 'em
In and out of lanes a New York cab
I'm Mr. Ol' King, New York cab
Who's this fake *****, on pictures with the Jake
Got his crew starving 'cause he aint the cake, *****
He ain't Nas, B.I.G., ain't Jigga
If he Cube or Pac then who you got?
We tired 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 like a
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
C'mon man, what to the thug?
Now you find in the club, him and Lloyd Banks hugging
***** got mad when The Game start
So making friends now I'm into throwing slugs
Olivia talking about we a family, had to go
***** I'll smack that ho like I'm
'cause I wanna be cool, I don't wanna be you
I don't wanna shake hands, or wear G-Unit shoes
Don't want you on my hooks, don't wanna be in group
Just wanna sit here and
To be gone, so I can head to the block
Fresh white Nike airs and the socks fitted

Pull the brim low, if they get it
Bentley Coup on daytons, I was the first one with it
Four platinum, I done been there and did it
Came in the game and shitted, 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 on me, they don't want Jayceon to play
And the DA on Jayceon to make a mistake
So they can put me in the squad car and lock me
Give me a odd job in the pen for pay
Let me out so I can down criminal way
Pushing the rock, nah ain't no subliminal Jay
The too hot, and I want the winter to stay
'cause I'm a ***** when I put the pen to the page
Similar to shells going into my gauge
I hand 'em off to Dre, he them into granades
And Just Blaze, 'cause the boy got
Like I close my eyes, and up in a Roc chain
Now to reality, my gun and my vest
And if diamonds are forever, I'm Kanye West
a look at my chest, a hundred thou at jacob
Whole crew got chains, a hundred thou can't 'em
And the flow is hot like that wit
And the only I got spinning is Daytons
The hotter I get the more willing to 'em
So soon as the beat drop, where I take 'em
Compton meet, to get me some All-Stars
Game in the house, they callin all cars
'cause they heard about what 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 in this nonsense
be in Harlem, wouldn't be at this conference
I'd rather be pushing rock, Samantha Ronson
50 whispered in my ear, like we still
We ain't friends, I'm just acting like Bronson
Middle in the air, one hand on my Johnson
Hip-Hop police on me I'm the convict
What happened to the old I thought it was rhyming
Doug E. Fresh and Daina Dane on the like Common
Now that common, it's more like Top Ramen
The flow is noodles, I it up like vomit
And I still like 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 I can't because
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 outta prison
vision, blow a hundred thou like my wallet missing
Then re-up kid before the d-cup
Continuously money with my feet up
Chasing the throne, my black Air Force
I fuck Benzino 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, remove hats
We miss ya'll, can I get a hand
Now to rap, why I gotta stay strapped?
On that T-I-P, kill you ASAP
won't know which hole to patch up, when the K clap
I tried to spare you Young Buck, now time for payback
It go, how you from Cashville but you ain't got no cash
Say my name now that's your fucking ass
your mouth shut and I gave you a pass nigga
Now I gotta lay you down like the nigga
Buck, buck, buck from my
This nigga playing with his life, I might have to put him in
Tryna play the game, talking up on the stereo
Prepare for burial, when I'm reincarnating Harry-O
And you don't want David 'cause you love your life
Get my Vibe, when it's war he out butter knifes
Muthafucka I'ma 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 flow
Then he you temporary 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 ain't had the ten
Picture that, I we was G-Unit
Then you ran and 50 that I did that 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, I run inside the Candy 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 beat 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 Hummingbird on a top
The new Hov, the new B.I.G., the new 'Pac, I need three
280 in, ain't no me back
I'm yelling fuck the world, on my lap
Remember first it was Buddens, it was Bleek
Now it's whoever muthafucka, yeah, who beef?
Now muthafucka, who wanna see me?
In the coffin, exhausted, resting in peace
You don't want war nigga, you want
So 'em the peace, capiche (sp?)
Let 'em in peace
west to east the flow is outdatable, irreplacable
Lyrical homicide, hell is hot, I'm boxing with
And I slipped 'em the ace, you cannot 'em
If ever decide to return, I remain Jayceon
A king in the making, and the throne is for the
So I the mountain top and put my stake in
Got the of the world 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 and Runnin, nigga the wait is over
I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone