Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Running

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

I like 50
He me Spongebob
And Tony Yayo is Blues
And Lloyd Banks is Dora the
my friends

I went down one of them 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 bout to be on some Raheim shit
Man that shit like some Vanessa Williams '88
I mean cute but they say that bitch a man
So Black Wallstreet for life now
GGG-UNOT!

[The
300 and Runnin
loan me your ears for 15 minutes
Walk me

the breakdown, pass the doja, .45 in the holster
Hollow tips'll fold 'em, them niggaz toy soldiers
Oh, that boy colder Hova unless he sober
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 wanna do that? When I'm the new cat
That was if a nigga 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 sleep through it
We can go bar for bar, I'll let the speak to 'em
What they say? Bleek is let Chris and Neef do it
They say the wrong thing, I'ma smack 'em
What you thought? Them was the only that rapped in Philly?
See them niggaz with the leave you wrapped in Philly
Then dash in groups Beanie Mac in Philly
?? said Jack in Philly
Make a U-turn, I gotta go 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 murdered by the
Even I was To Die, when I heard that he was shot
What's Beef is when I murk you on the spot
Labels signing many things, still searching for 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 cops the only he got
When beef we eat, we win, but we ain't lonely 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 I fall, hope the bleeding stop
And I you black out before you see the cops
I ain't hot top for colors, I'm from Block
So I got my hot tops that your breathing stop
I'm a gangsta slash rapper, check CD shop
I'm like Elvis in there, they believe you dropped
Now I'm on up to George and Weezy's spot
I picked up where my homeboy Eazy
I saw the west coast, put the on my back
Aftermath on it, then 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 duece to hat
Then 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
about when the ?? clap, is rufus back
I see what you thinkin, you me to die, is that so?
Now you leaning back, thanks to Fat Joe
We got reservations in heaven, you Let's go
Drop them off, then the sound like
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 mouth about what the they gon' do to me
But quit the yapping before I proceed to
And you gon' see the with plans of getting me captured
Even behind bars, I'm still shine
I'm 10 years younger than Yayo, I get out, I'm
Then I go right back, I pop mines
How you gon' drop Olivia, you only dimes
I knew you changed, when you started sleeping in vest dog
I don't need 50 Cent, my niggaz make collect
a faggot nigga wig
He got G-Unit wings, them off the Queens Bridge
Now your career is over, career is
We in QB, CNN in the rover
T-O-N-Y, that's the phony
You ain't the talk of New York, sixteens is boring
that shit off ??, go back to PC
And 50 Cent you want a copy of Beef 3
I'm their ass out on DVD
You wanna rhyme like Lloyd Banks repeat me
I'm a G-Unit toy
On Sesame street doing overs
Bitch ass nigga need a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his
Sound like Oscar the Grouch, with them nursery
We was in the studio, when I got signed
He got stuck, he 50 tryna borrow some lines
That's the wrong nigga, when you need help with 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 with Ja, why you ain't go at
He freestyled the pen, that's just the fact
Said he'd put you with your mom, and you ain't with that
you lied about your pops, he ain't never bust no cap
Like Father, Like Son, go ask that
I knew the beginning I couldn't trust those cats
I'd kill 'em all, if I could Justo back
The underground is mine, I treat it home
It's the reason niggaz saying my name Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it home
the reason niggaz saying my name like Mike Jones
The is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason saying my name like Mike Jones
I
The underground is mine, I treat it like
the reason niggaz saying my name like Mike Jones
And I'm far from Houston but you can it and screw it
Do whatever to it, but it in the store the shit
Gave 'em a hundred bars, they ain't I could do it
with two hundred, nigga this is more than music
Even Dre it, that boy hot like summer
?? in the dirt, 300 Bars and Runnin
And I beef with any nigga, 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 shits sell out like a Air shoe
I Funk Flex when I catch the nigga Whoo Kid
We gon' see if he know how to DJ bruised ribs
hit me on the sidekick 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 chain
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, ain't nothing for him to say
Took me off my own songs, put it on his tapes
So I'ma take him out his house, put the beam on his
Drop him off at Terror Squad, let him scream for the
'cause when you with Jayceon, you can bleed in the lake
For off niggaz on them CD's and tapes
Ask them to scratch a record, you see he fake
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 for your shit just a lil bit
Niggaz only for your shit a lil bit
On my album 50 helped me a lil bit
Only on two songs, now back to killer shit
My clips bananas, I kill a quick
on your chest, I see to your death, yep
Tell to make him a suit
Tell Reebock to make him some
Get him a head band, to cover the in his head
He a dead man for he can walk through muddy waters 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
Take my advice, wear air max for the ??
Unless you one of the Bloods, or a king
'cause if your with the Aryans your ass will sting
And your cell mate is a 25 to
will stab you then ?? then fuck you on Rikers
And Goes On
Now back to the coward of the hour who lied and said he write my
He told Vibe Dre was leave me on the shelf
So he gave me all his hits, you should've kept them for
Nigga stop acting tough I stand over you
Show you how The live on top of The Massacre
Make a I'm blasting your ass to the last one
Ten shots the Mack empty the rest in the passenger
Fase yelling enough, let the coroner bag him up
in Makaveli and lift the doors on the Maganum
Gun smoking, Fase think I'm backing up
Reverse the '05 on 41st and traffic, what
Hip-Hop cops on my left, but I '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, that New cab
Who's fake nigga, on pictures with the Jake nigga?
Got his crew starving 'cause he the whole cake, nigga
He ain't Nas, ain't B.I.G., ain't
If he ain't Cube or Pac who you got?
We getting tired of you talkin about who you
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 after wanksta
Get Rich or Die Tryin, we you was hot
Now the same nigga take us to the Candy Shop
C'mon man, happened to the thug?
Now you find in the club, him and Lloyd Banks hugging
Nigga got mad when The Game start
So fuck making friends now I'm into throwing
Olivia about we a family, Game had to go
I'll smack that ho like I'm Jackie-O
'cause I don't wanna be cool, I don't be you
I don't wanna shake hands, or wear your 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 matching fitted

Pull the low, if they don't get it
Bentley Coup on gold daytons, I was the one with it
Four times platinum, I done there and did it
Came in the game and shitted, then wiped my ass it
They say the givth, if Lord take 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 lock me
Give me a odd job in the pen for pay
Let me out so I can drive criminal 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 nigga I put the pen to the page
to them shells going into my gauge
I hand 'em off to Dre, he them into granades
And Just Blaze, the boy got game
Like I close my eyes, and up in a Roc chain
Now back to reality, my gun and my
And if diamonds are forever, I'm Kanye West
a look at my chest, a hundred thou wet jacob
Whole crew got chains, a hundred thou can't 'em
And the flow is hot like that wit
And the thing I got spinning is Daytons
The I get the more willing to snake 'em
So as the beat drop, watch where I take 'em
Compton Swap meet, to get me some
When in the house, they call ??
'cause they heard about went on in D.C
Heard about Hot 97, my beef 50
Now me do he got a conscience?
I think not, 'cause if he did I 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, we still bonding
We ain't friends, I'm just acting like Bronson
Middle finger in the air, one on my Johnson
Hip-Hop police on me I'm the convict
What happened to the old school? I it was rhyming
Doug E. Fresh and Dana Day on the like Common
Now that ain't common, it's more Top Ramen
The is news, I throw it up like vomit
And I shine like diamonds
They kicked me out of and I rebounded like Rodman
It's still Aftermath, two 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 .45 on the side of my prada denim
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, here my black Air
I fuck Benzino and got the cover of The Source
Feel me? If not then I guess you kill me
But you ain't gon' do so motherfucker move back
While I do B.I.G. and 'Pac impersonations on two
When I wake the dead, everybody remove
We miss y'all, can I get a clap?
Now back to rap, why I gotta strapped?
On that murder T-I-P, kill you
won't know which hole to patch up, when the ?? clap
I tried to spare you Young Buck, now time for payback
It go, how you from Cashville but you ain't got no nigga?
Say my now that's your fucking ass nigga
Kept your mouth shut and I gave you a nigga
Now I gotta lay you down like the nigga
Buck, buck, from my AK-47
This nigga playing with his life, I might to put him in heaven
play the game, talking shit up on the stereo
Prepare for burial, it's 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 knifes
Muthafucker show you who the gangsta
All you do is Inc., now who the wanksta?
When had you, you were stranded on Tha Row
left you for dead and went back to the NO
50 you on the tour bus and felt your little flow
Then he you temporary replacement for Yayo
You a bitch, and that's hard to
And you got for your spinning G-Unit chain in Chicago
I my nigga Jojo to get it back
He had the shit in his hands, and you ain't had the ten
Picture that, I we was G-Unit
you ran and told 50 that I did that shit
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 drop, when I run inside the Candy Shop
you, 50, Banks, Yayo, and the cops
And Olivia, I for a man she hot
Now I'm running out of breath, I just beat boxed
Got 20 to go, lay it down like sheet rock
worry 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 three 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 whoever motherfucker, yeah, who want
Now whenever motherfucker, who see me?
In the coffin, body exhausted, in peace
You don't want war nigga, you peace
So 'em the peace, capiche (sp?)
Let 'em rest in
From to east the flow is outdatable, irreplacable
Lyrical homicide, is hot, I'm boxing with Satan
And I 'em the ace, you cannot replace 'em
If Eazy ever decide to return, I remain
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 nor a hoodrat bitch can stop me from taking it over
This is crack music, go get the baking
300 Bars and Runnin, the wait is over
I'm gone...