Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Running

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

I 50 Cent
He reminds me
And Yayo is Blues Clues
And Banks is Dora the Explorer
my friends

I went down one of Bodaga shits right there 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 radio Raheim
Man that shit like some Vanessa Williams '88
I mean cute but they say that bitch a man
So this Black Wallstreet for now
GGG-UNOT!

[The
300 Bars and
Just loan me your ears for 15
Walk me

Here the breakdown, pass the doja, .45 in the
Hollow tips'll fold 'em, them niggaz they toy
Oh, that boy colder than Hova unless he
Like I'm the president, but this ain't the
Now, there's the speaker, your ears a little closer
Before you call this a diss, and you Hova pissed
Why would I do that? When I'm just the new cat
That was taught if a take shots 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, then throw him a concert in square
Watch everybody through it
We can go bar for bar, I'll let the lines to 'em
What they say? Bleek is let Chris and Neef do it
say the wrong thing, I'ma smack 'em silly
What you thought? Them was the niggaz that rapped in Philly?
See niggaz with the soonies leave you wrapped in Philly
Then dash in groups Beanie Mac in Philly
?? said Curtis in Philly
a U-turn, I gotta go back to Philly
I forgot my cheese stake, what I told the cops
So wouldn't get the dogs start searching for the glock
And I can't forget, B.I.G. got by the cops
Even I was Ready To Die, I heard that he was shot
What's beef? Beef is when I you on the spot
signing many things, still searching for they Pac
I put on the block
So I don't feel threatened when Ludacris say he coming for the #1
Ask 50, it get on top
You can hate me or love me, but now the the only homies he got
When it's beef we eat, we win, but we lonely we pop
You sell 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, the bleeding stop
And I hope you black out you see the cops
I ain't hot top for colors, I'm from Block
So I got my hot that make your breathing stop
I'm a gangsta slash rapper, check your CD
I'm like Elvis in there, can't believe you dropped
Now I'm on up to George and Weezy's spot
I picked up 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 niggaz 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
Call Jadakiss, tell him that duke is
I'm still by your side, no matter who comes
Fuck Lloyd Banks, it ain't who can rap
It's about the ?? clap, is rufus back
I see what you thinkin, you want me to die, is so?
Now you left back, thanks to Fat Joe
We got reservations in heaven, you Let's go
Drop off, then the sound like Esko
I'm a say ?? if me and Dre
All Nas said was he had a ??
Now that's the eulogy, is kinda foolish see
Niggaz running mouth about what the fuck they gon' do to me
But quit the yapping I proceed to clapping
And you gon' see the captain with of getting me captured
Even behind bars, I'm still shine
I'm 10 years than Yayo, I get out, I'm fine
I go right back, nigga I pop mines
How you gon' drop Olivia, you drop dimes
I you changed, when you started sleeping in that vest dog
I don't need 50 Cent, my make collect calls
1-800-split a faggot wig
He got G-Unit wings, throw off the Queens Bridge
Now career 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, your is boring
that shit off ??, go back to PC
And tell 50 Cent you want a of Beef 3
I'm airing ass out on DVD
You rhyme like Lloyd Banks repeat after me
I'm a toy soldier
On street doing voice overs
Bitch ass nigga need a rhyme dictionary, to his lines
like Oscar the Grouch, with them nursery rhymes
We was in the studio, I first got signed
He got stuck, he called 50 borrow some lines
That's the wrong nigga, you need help with your rhymes
All he gon' tell you is say G-Unit one time
Got mad 'cause I ain't wanna make your beef
You got with Ja, why you ain't go at Shyne?
He freestyled the pen, that's just the fact
Said put you with your mom, and you ain't fucked with that
you lied about your pops, he ain't never bust no cap
Like Father, Like Son, go ask Busta
I knew the beginning I couldn't trust those cats
I'd 'em all, if I could bring Justo back
The underground is mine, I it like home
It's the reason niggaz saying my name like Mike
The is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason niggaz my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it like
the reason niggaz saying my name like Mike Jones
I
The underground is mine, I treat it home
It's the niggaz 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
'em a hundred bars, they ain't think I could do it
Came with two hundred, nigga this is more music
Even Dre it, that boy hot like summer
Both ?? in the dirt, 300 Bars and
And I beef with any nigga, say my name motherfuck I'm
You can put it on if you want it
air you out on Drama King, Mike, or Clue
And watch them sell out like a Air Jordon shoe
I told Funk when I catch the nigga Whoo Kid
We gon' see if he know how to DJ with bruised
Don't hit me on the sidekick asking you did
Get a gun or ask 50's to use his
'cause gonna get ya
Bloods, Bloods gonna get ya for that chain
That 380 brains, when I pop shots
Outside NY, in of hip-hop cops
Or broad day in L.A., tell Em and Dre
This nigga bootlegging my music, ain't for him to say
me off my own songs, then put it on his tapes
So I'ma take him out his house, put the on his face
Drop him off at Terror Squad, let him scream for the
'cause you fucking with Jayceon, you can bleed in the lake
For caking off niggaz on CD's and tapes
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 machine that G-Unit use every time 50 on stage singing
Bitches for your shit just a lil bit
Niggaz for your shit just a lil bit
On my album 50 me just a lil bit
Only on two songs, now back to some killer
My clips bananas, I kill a quick
Beating on chest, I see to your death, yep
Tell Ecko to him a suit
Tell Reebock to make him boots
Get him a head band, to the holes in his head
He a dead man for thinking he can walk through muddy waters like
Banks out and let the gun blam without a M-E-T-H-O-D Man
So the lieutenant gotta ask for his
my advice, never wear air max for the ??
Unless you one of the Bloods, or a latin
'cause if your left with the Aryans your ass will
And cell mate is a 25 to lifer
They will stab you ?? then fuck you on Rikers
And Life On
Now back to the coward of the hour who lied and said he my songs
He told Vibe Dre was gonna leave me on the
So he gave me all his hits, you should've kept them for
stop 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 from the Mack empty the rest in the passenger
Fase thats enough, let the coroner bag him up
Throw in and lift the doors on the Maganum
Gun smoking, Fase think I'm locin' up
the '05 hurse on 41st and traffic, what
Hip-Hop on my left, but I pass 'em up
The got a hemmy 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 nigga, on pictures with the Jake
Got his crew starving 'cause he ain't the cake, nigga
He ain't Nas, B.I.G., ain't Jigga
If he ain't or Pac then who you got?
We getting tired of you talkin who you shot
I'll use another six to tell you who you not
You ain't 50 Cent, he out like a gangsta
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 Shop
C'mon man, what to the thug?
Now you could in the club, him and Lloyd Banks hugging
Nigga got mad The Game start buzzing
So fuck making now I'm into throwing slugs
Olivia talking about we a family, had to go
I'll smack that ho like I'm Jackie-O
'cause I don't wanna be cool, I wanna be you
I don't wanna shake hands, or wear your G-Unit
want you on my hooks, don't wanna be in your group
Just wanna sit and wait
To be gone, so I can head back to the
Fresh white Nike airs and the matching fitted

Pull the low, if they don't get it
Coup on gold daytons, I was the first one with it
Four times platinum, I done been and did it
Came in the game and shitted, then wiped my ass it
They say the Lord givth, if Lord take it
So I build a on top of Hip-Hop, I'll wait for the day
Niggaz hating on me, they don't want Jayceon to
And the DA waiting on Jayceon to make a
So they can put me in the SWAT car and lock me
Give me a odd job in the pen for pay
Let me out so I can drive down way
Pushing the rock, nah this ain't no Jay
The summer too hot, and I want the to stay
'cause I'm a cold nigga I put the pen to the page
Similar to them shells going my gauge
I hand 'em off to Dre, he turned into granades
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 Kanye
Take a look at my chest, a hundred thou wet
Whole got chains, a hundred thou 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 beat drop, watch where I 'em
Compton meet, to get me some All-Stars
Game in the house, they call ??
'cause heard about what went on in D.C
Heard about Hot 97, my with 50
Now me do he got a conscience?
I think not, 'cause if he did I wouldn't be in this nonsense
Wouldn't be in Harlem, wouldn't be at conference
I'd rather be pushing rock, ??
50 whispered in my ear, like we still
We ain't friends, I'm acting like Charles Bronson
Middle finger in the air, one hand on my
Hip-Hop on me like I'm the convict
What happened to the old I thought it was rhyming
Doug E. Fresh and Day on the corner like Common
Now that ain't common, it's more like Top
The is news, I throw it up like vomit
And I still like diamonds
They kicked me out of G-Unit and I like Rodman
It's Aftermath, two feet in the pentition
I be mad, I ain't, I'm supposed to stop I because
I'm in the politican, Impala ??
And I keep a black .45 on the of my prada denim
Chip on my shoulder like I'm fresh outta
Dollar vision, blow a hundred thou like my missing
re-up like kid before the d-cup
Continuously getting with my feet up
the throne, here my black Air Force
I fuck Benzino and got the cover of The Source
Feel me? If not I guess you gotta kill me
But you gon' do that so motherfucker move back
I do B.I.G. and 'Pac impersonations on two tracks
When I wake the dead, everybody hats
We miss y'all, can I get a clap?
Now to rap, why I gotta stay strapped?
On murder T-I-P, kill you ASAP
They won't know which hole to up, when the ?? clap
I tried to spare you Buck, now it's time for payback
It go, how you from Cashville but you ain't got no cash
Say my now that's your fucking ass nigga
Kept your mouth shut and I gave you a pass
Now I gotta lay you down the last nigga
Buck, buck, buck my AK-47
This nigga playing his life, I might have to put him in heaven
Tryna the game, talking shit up on the stereo
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 pull out butter
Muthafucker show you who the gangsta
All you do is Murder Inc., now who the
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 felt your flow
Then he you temporary replacement for Yayo
You a bitch, and that's to swallow
And you got robbed for spinning G-Unit chain in Chicago
I call my nigga 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 50 that I did that shit
Ask C-Murder, the boy ain't to find
I told Monica when I catch him The Boy is
one shot of Brandy 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 like sheet rock
Don't worry the flow, the boy know he hot
Hurricanes in November, nigga 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 getting me
I'm yelling the world, on my victory lap
Remember first it was Buddens, then it was
Now it's whoever motherfucker, yeah, who beef?
Now motherfucker, who wanna see me?
In the coffin, body exhausted, resting in
You don't want war nigga, you peace
So give 'em the peace, (sp?)
Let 'em in peace
From to east the flow is outdatable, irreplacable
Lyrical homicide, hell is hot, I'm boxing 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 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 from it over
is crack music, go get the baking soda
300 Bars and Runnin, the wait is over
I'm gone...