Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Running

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

I like 50
He reminds me
And Tony is Blues Clues
And Lloyd Banks is Dora the
my friends

I went down one of them Bodaga shits there in Harlem
Got me a Lloyd Banks and Young Buck CD
that shit 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 Wallstreet for now
GGG-UNOT!

Game]
300 Bars and
Just loan me ears for 15 minutes
with me

Here the breakdown, the doja, .45 in the holster
Hollow tips'll 'em, them niggaz they toy soldiers
Oh, that boy colder than Hova 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 this a diss, and you make pissed
Why would I wanna do that? When I'm the new cat
That was taught if a nigga take shots to back
Defending his yard, standing his ground
I'm saying if you retire, then hand me the crown
Nah, let Bleek do it, then him a concert in Madison square
Watch everybody through it
We can go bar for bar, let the lines speak to 'em
What say? Bleek is over let Chris and Neef do it
They say the wrong thing, smack 'em silly
you thought? Them was the only niggaz that rapped in Philly?
See them with the soonies leave you wrapped in Philly
Then dash in groups like Mac in Philly
?? said Curtis Jack in
a U-turn, I gotta go back to Philly
I forgot my stake, that's what I told the cops
So wouldn't get the dogs start searching for the glock
And I forget, B.I.G. got murdered by the cops
Even I was Ready To Die, when I heard he was shot
beef? 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 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
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 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 out before you see the cops
I ain't hot top for colors, I'm Cedar Block
So I got my hot tops that make your stop
I'm a gangsta rapper, check your CD shop
I'm Elvis in there, they can't believe you dropped
Now I'm moving on up to George and spot
I picked up where my Eazy stopped
I saw the coast, put the shit on my back
Sprayed on it, then loosened the strap
It get hot in here, let rap
Bring hell to niggaz Dre producing a track
Take it to the streets, put the duece duece to hat
Then call up the pigs, tell them the rooster's
Call Jadakiss, tell him duke is back
I'm by your side, no matter who comes strapped
Fuck Lloyd Banks, it ain't who can rap
It's when the ?? clap, is rufus back
I see what you thinkin, you want me to die, is so?
Now you leaning back, thanks to Fat Joe
We got reservations in heaven, you Let's go
Drop them off, then the sound Esko
I'm a say ?? if me and Dre
All Nas said was he had a ??
Now that's the eulogy, beef is foolish see
Niggaz their mouth about what the fuck they gon' do to me
But quit the before I proceed to clapping
And you gon' see the with plans of getting me captured
Even behind bars, I'm gon' shine
I'm 10 years younger than Yayo, I get out, I'm
Then I go right back, I pop mines
How you drop Olivia, you only drop dimes
I knew you changed, when you started in that vest dog
I don't need 50 Cent, my niggaz make calls
1-800-split a faggot wig
He got G-Unit wings, throw off the Queens Bridge
Now your career is over, career is
We in QB, CNN in the rover
T-O-N-Y, the phony NORE
You the talk of New York, your sixteens is boring
Take that shit off ??, go to PC
And tell 50 Cent you want a of Beef 3
I'm their ass out on DVD
You wanna rhyme like Lloyd Banks after me
I'm a toy soldier
On Sesame street doing overs
Bitch ass nigga need a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his
Sound like Oscar the Grouch, them nursery rhymes
We was in the studio, when I got signed
He got stuck, he called 50 tryna borrow lines
That's the wrong nigga, when you need with your rhymes
All he gon' you is say G-Unit one more time
Got mad 'cause I ain't wanna make your beef
You got with Ja, why you ain't go at Shyne?
He freestyled from the pen, just the fact
Said he'd put you with your mom, and you ain't with that
Then you about your pops, he ain't never bust no cap
Like Father, Son, go ask Busta that
I knew the beginning I couldn't trust those cats
I'd kill 'em all, if I could bring Justo
The is mine, I treat it like home
the reason niggaz saying my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I it like home
It's the reason niggaz saying my name like Mike
The underground is mine, I treat it home
It's the niggaz saying my name like Mike Jones
I
The is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason niggaz saying my name like Mike
And I'm far Houston but you can chop it and screw it
Do whatever to it, but it in the store the moving
Gave 'em a hundred bars, they ain't I could do it
Came with two hundred, nigga is more than music
Dre knew it, that boy hot like summer
Both ?? in the dirt, 300 Bars and
And I with any nigga, say my name motherfuck 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 sell out like a Air Jordon
I told Funk 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 police to use his
'cause gonna get ya
Bloods, Bloods get ya for that Shadyville chain
That 380 brains, when I pop shots
Outside NY, in front of hip-hop
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, then put it on his
So I'ma him out his house, put the beam on his face
him off at Terror Squad, let him scream for the jakes
'cause when you fucking Jayceon, you can bleed in the lake
For caking off niggaz on them and tapes
Ask them to a record, you will see he fake
If 50 was Puffy, run and go get him a cheese cake
Take the DJ off your name, Mr. replay
Not the replay
I mean the machine that G-Unit use every time 50 on stage like
Bitches only for your shit a lil bit
only for your shit just 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
Beating on your chest, I see to death, yep
Tell Ecko to him a suit
Tell Reebock to make him some
Get him a head band, to cover the holes in his
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 lieutenant gotta ask for his
my advice, never wear air max for the ??
Unless you one of the Bloods, or a king
'cause if your left with the Aryans your ass will
And your cell is a 25 to lifer
They will stab you then ?? then you on Rikers
And Life On
Now back to the coward of the hour who and said 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
Nigga stop acting tough 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 Makaveli and the doors on the Maganum
Gun smoking, Fase think I'm locin' up
Reverse the '05 hurse on 41st and traffic,
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 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., Jigga
If he Cube or Pac then who you got?
We getting of you talkin about who you shot
I'll use six bars to tell you who you not
You ain't 50 Cent, he out like a gangsta
You went out Vivica, three months after wanksta
Get or Die Tryin, we thought you was hot
Now the same nigga wanna take us to the Candy
man, what 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 slugs
talking about we a family, Game had to go
Nigga I'll smack that ho I'm Jackie-O
'cause I wanna be cool, I don't wanna be you
I don't wanna shake hands, or wear G-Unit shoes
want you on my hooks, don't wanna be in your group
Just sit here and wait
To be gone, so I can head back to the
Fresh Nike airs and the matching socks fitted

Pull the low, if they don't get it
Bentley Coup on gold daytons, I was the one with 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 take it
So I a house on top of Hip-Hop, I'll wait for the day
Niggaz hating on me, they don't Jayceon to play
And the DA waiting on Jayceon to make a
So they can put me in the SWAT car and lock me
me a odd job in the pen for minimum pay
Let me out so I can down criminal way
Pushing the rock, nah ain't no subliminal Jay
The summer too hot, and I want the to stay
'cause I'm a cold when I put the pen to the page
Similar to them shells going into my
I hand 'em off to Dre, he turned them into
And Just Blaze, the boy got game
I close my eyes, and woke up in a Roc chain
Now back to reality, my gun and my
And if are forever, then I'm Kanye West
Take a look at my chest, a thou wet jacob
Whole got chains, a hundred thou can't break 'em
And the flow is hot that wit Satan
And the only thing I got is Daytons
The hotter I get the more willing to 'em
So soon as the beat drop, watch where I 'em
Swap meet, to get me some All-Stars
When in the house, they call ??
'cause they heard about went on in D.C
Heard about Hot 97, my beef 50
Now tell me do he got a
I think not, 'cause if he did I wouldn't be involved in this
Wouldn't be in Harlem, wouldn't be at this
I'd be pushing rock, like ??
50 whispered in my ear, like we still
We ain't friends, I'm just like Charles Bronson
finger 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 Dana Day on the like Common
Now that ain't common, more like Top Ramen
The flow is news, I throw it up like
And I shine like diamonds
kicked me out of G-Unit and I rebounded like Rodman
It's still Aftermath, two feet in the
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 hundred thou like my wallet
Then like kid before the d-cup
Continuously getting money my feet up
the throne, here 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 move back
While I do B.I.G. and impersonations on two tracks
I wake the dead, everybody remove hats
We miss y'all, can I get a hand
Now back to rap, why I gotta strapped?
On that T-I-P, kill you ASAP
They won't know which hole to up, when the ?? clap
I to spare you Young Buck, now it's time for payback
It go, how you Cashville but you ain't got no cash nigga?
Say my name now your fucking ass nigga
Kept your mouth shut and I you a pass nigga
Now I gotta lay you down the last nigga
Buck, buck, from my AK-47
This playing with his life, I might have 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 'cause you love your
Get my Vibe, when it's war he pull out butter
Muthafucker I'ma you who the gangsta
All you do is Inc., now who the wanksta?
When Suge had you, you stranded on Tha Row
Juve left you for 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 hard to swallow
And you got robbed for your spinning G-Unit 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 told 50 that I did that
Ask C-Murder, the boy ain't hard to
I told Monica when I catch him The Boy is
one shot of Brandy and pop
Watch his panties drop, when I run inside the Candy
you, 50, Banks, Yayo, and the cops
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
worry about the flow, the boy know he hot
Hurricanes in store November, nigga fuck
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, then it was
Now it's whoever motherfucker, yeah, who want
Now whenever motherfucker, who see me?
In the coffin, exhausted, resting in peace
You don't war nigga, you want peace
So 'em the peace, capiche (sp?)
Let 'em in peace
From west to 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 Jayceon
A king in the making, and the throne is for the
So I climb the mountain top and put my 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, nigga the wait is
I'm gone...