Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Running

My took me to Sam Goody's
I wanted to buy a 50 CD
I took shit home
shit was wack like a motherfucker
Don't fuck Game

I like 50
He reminds me
And Tony Yayo is Blues
And Lloyd is Dora the Explorer
my friends

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

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

the breakdown, pass the doja, .45 in the holster
Hollow tips'll fold 'em, them niggaz they toy
Oh, that boy colder than unless he sober
Like I'm the president, but this ain't the
Now, there's the speaker, bring ears 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 taught if a take shots to shoot back
his yard, yeah standing his ground
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, I'll let the speak to 'em
they say? Bleek is over let Chris and Neef do it
They say the wrong thing, I'ma 'em silly
What you thought? Them was the niggaz that rapped in Philly?
See them with the soonies leave you wrapped in Philly
Then dash in like Beanie Mac in Philly
?? said Jack in Philly
a U-turn, I gotta go back to Philly
I forgot my cheese stake, that's 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, when I that he was shot
beef? Beef is when I murk you on the spot
Labels signing many things, still searching for Pac
I put purple on the
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 homies he got
it's beef we eat, we win, but we ain't 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 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 hot top for colors, I'm Cedar Block
So I got my hot tops that your breathing stop
I'm a gangsta slash rapper, your CD shop
I'm like Elvis in there, can't believe you dropped
Now I'm moving on up to and Weezy's spot
I picked up where my homeboy stopped
I saw the west coast, put the on my back
Sprayed Aftermath on it, loosened 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
call up the pigs, tell them the rooster's back
Call Jadakiss, him that duke is back
I'm still by your side, no matter who strapped
Fuck Banks, it ain't about who can rap
It's about the ?? clap, is rufus back
I see you thinkin, you want me to die, is that so?
Now you left leaning back, to Fat Joe
We got reservations in heaven, you Let's go
them off, then the sound like Esko
I'm a say ?? if me and Dre
All Nas said was he had a ??
Now the eulogy, beef is kinda foolish see
Niggaz running their about what the fuck they gon' do to me
But the yapping before I proceed to clapping
And you gon' see the captain with plans of me captured
Even behind bars, I'm still gon'
I'm 10 years than Yayo, I get out, I'm fine
Then I go back, nigga I pop mines
How you gon' drop Olivia, you only drop
I knew you changed, you started sleeping in that vest dog
I don't need 50 Cent, my make collect calls
1-800-split a nigga wig
He got wings, throw 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, your is boring
that shit off ??, go back to PC
And tell 50 you want a copy of Beef 3
I'm airing ass out on DVD
You wanna rhyme like Lloyd Banks after me
I'm a toy soldier
On street doing voice overs
Bitch ass nigga need a rhyme dictionary, to his lines
Sound like Oscar the Grouch, with them rhymes
We was in the studio, I first got signed
He got stuck, he called 50 borrow some lines
That's the nigga, when 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 lucky Ja, why you ain't 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
you lied about your pops, he ain't never bust no cap
Like Father, Like Son, go ask Busta
I knew from the beginning I couldn't those cats
I'd kill 'em all, if I could bring Justo
The underground is mine, I treat it like
the reason niggaz saying my name like Mike Jones
The is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason niggaz my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I it like home
It's the reason niggaz saying my name like Jones
I
The underground is mine, I it like home
It's the reason niggaz my name like Mike Jones
And I'm far from Houston but you can it and screw it
Do to it, but it in the store the shit moving
Gave 'em a hundred bars, they ain't think I do it
Came with two hundred, nigga this is than music
Even Dre knew it, that boy hot like
?? in the dirt, 300 Bars and Runnin
And I beef with any nigga, say my name I'm gunnin'
You can put it on if you want it
I'll air you out on Drama King, Mike, or
And watch them shits out like a Air Jordon shoe
I told Funk when I catch the nigga Whoo Kid
We gon' see if he how to DJ with bruised ribs
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 gonna get ya for that Shadyville
That 380 spill brains, when I pop
NY, in front of hip-hop cops
Or day in L.A., I'ma tell Em and Dre
This bootlegging my music, ain't nothing for him to say
Took me off my own songs, then put it on his
So I'ma take him out his house, put the beam on his
Drop him off at Terror Squad, let him for the jakes
'cause when you fucking with Jayceon, you can in the lake
For caking off on them 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 cake
Take the DJ off your name, Mr. Instant
Not the instant
I mean the machine that G-Unit use every 50 on stage singing like
Bitches only for shit just a lil bit
Niggaz only for your shit a lil bit
On my 50 helped me just a lil bit
Only on two songs, now back to some shit
My clips bananas, I kill a quick
Beating on chest, I see to your death, yep
Tell Ecko to make him a
Tell Reebock to make him boots
Get him a head band, to cover the in his head
He a dead man for thinking he can walk muddy waters like Redman
Banks 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, never air max for the ??
Unless you one of the Bloods, or a king
'cause if your left the Aryans your ass will sting
And cell mate is a 25 to lifer
will stab you then ?? then fuck you on Rikers
And Life On
Now to the coward of the hour who lied and said he write my songs
He told Vibe Dre was gonna me on the shelf
So he gave me all his hits, you should've them for yourself
Nigga acting tough before I stand over you
Show you how The 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 thats enough, let the bag him up
Throw in Makaveli and the doors on the Maganum
Gun smoking, think I'm locin' backing up
the '05 hurse on 41st and traffic, what
Hip-Hop cops on my left, but I 'em up
The Dodge got a in it, Game got a Remy in 'em
In and out of like a New York cab
I'm Mr. Ol' King, New York cab
Who's this fake nigga, on pictures the Jake nigga?
Got his starving 'cause he ain't the whole cake, nigga
He ain't Nas, ain't B.I.G., Jigga
If he ain't Cube or Pac then who you
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 went out a gangsta
You went out with Vivica, three months after
Get Rich or Die Tryin, we you was hot
Now the same wanna take us to the Candy Shop
C'mon man, what to the thug?
Now you could find in the club, him and Lloyd hugging
Nigga got mad when The start buzzing
So fuck friends now I'm into throwing slugs
Olivia talking about we a family, had to go
Nigga I'll smack that ho I'm Jackie-O
'cause I don't wanna be cool, I don't be you
I don't wanna hands, or wear your G-Unit shoes
Don't want you on my hooks, don't wanna be in your
Just wanna sit and wait
To be gone, so I can back to the block
white Nike airs and the matching socks fitted

Pull the brim low, if don't get it
Bentley Coup on gold daytons, I was the first one it
times platinum, I done been there and did it
Came in the and shitted, then wiped my ass with it
They say the Lord givth, if Lord it away
So I a house 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 me away
me a odd job in the pen for minimum pay
Let me out so I can drive down way
the rock, nah this ain't no subliminal Jay
The summer too hot, and I want the winter to
'cause I'm a cold when I put the pen to the page
Similar to them going into my gauge
I hand 'em off to Dre, he turned into granades
And Just Blaze, the boy got game
Like I my eyes, and woke up in a Roc chain
Now to reality, my gun and my vest
And if are forever, then I'm Kanye West
Take a look at my chest, a hundred thou wet
Whole crew got chains, a hundred can't break 'em
And the flow is hot like wit Satan
And the only I got spinning is Daytons
The hotter I get the willing to snake 'em
So soon as the beat drop, watch where I 'em
Compton Swap meet, to get me All-Stars
Game in the house, they call ??
'cause they 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 be pushing rock, like ??
50 whispered in my ear, like we still
We ain't friends, I'm just acting like Charles
finger in the air, one hand on my Johnson
Hip-Hop police on me I'm the convict
happened to the old school? I thought it was rhyming
Doug E. Fresh and Dana Day on the like Common
Now that common, it's more like Top Ramen
The is news, I throw it up like vomit
And I still like diamonds
They kicked me out of and I rebounded like Rodman
still Aftermath, two feet in the pentition
I be mad, I ain't, I'm supposed to I can't because
I'm in the hood politican, ??
And I a black .45 on the side of my prada denim
on my shoulder like I'm fresh outta prison
Dollar vision, blow a thou like my wallet missing
Then re-up like kid the d-cup
Continuously getting with my feet up
the throne, here my black Air Force
I said fuck and got the cover of The Source
Feel me? If not I guess you gotta kill me
But you ain't gon' do so motherfucker move back
I do B.I.G. and 'Pac impersonations on two tracks
When I wake the dead, remove hats
We miss y'all, can I get a clap?
Now to rap, why I gotta stay strapped?
On that T-I-P, kill you ASAP
They know which hole to patch up, when the ?? 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 cash
Say my name now that's your ass nigga
your 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 might 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 don't want that 'cause you love your life
Get my Vibe, when it's war he out butter knifes
Muthafucker I'ma show you who the
All you do is Inc., now who the wanksta?
Suge had you, you were stranded on Tha Row
Juve you for dead and went back to the NO
50 heard you on the tour bus and felt little flow
Then he made you temporary 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 Jojo to get it
He had the shit in his hands, and you ain't had the ten
that, I thought we was G-Unit
Then you ran and 50 that I did that shit
Ask C-Murder, the boy hard to find
I Monica when I catch 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 sheet rock
worry about the flow, the boy know he hot
Hurricanes in November, nigga fuck Reebocks
I'm fly like a Hummingbird on a top
The new Hov, the new B.I.G., the new 'Pac, I three spots
280 in, no getting me back
I'm yelling fuck the world, on my lap
Remember it was Buddens, then it was Bleek
Now it's whoever motherfucker, yeah, who want
Now whenever motherfucker, who see me?
In the coffin, exhausted, resting in peace
You don't want war nigga, you peace
So 'em the peace, capiche (sp?)
Let 'em rest in
From west to the flow is outdatable, irreplacable
homicide, hell is hot, I'm boxing with Satan
And I slipped 'em the ace, you replace 'em
If Eazy ever decide to return, I remain
A king in the making, and the throne is for the
So I climb the mountain top and put my in
Got the weight of the on my shoulder
Not a nigga nor a hoodrat bitch can stop me from taking it
is crack music, go get the baking soda
300 Bars and Runnin, nigga the wait is
I'm gone...