Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Running

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

I like 50
He reminds me
And Tony Yayo is Clues
And Lloyd Banks is the Explorer
my friends

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

Game]
300 Bars and
loan me your ears for 15 minutes
Walk me

Here the breakdown, the doja, .45 in the holster
Hollow tips'll fold 'em, them niggaz they toy
Oh, boy colder than Hova unless he sober
Like I'm the president, but this the takeover
Now, there's the speaker, bring ears a little closer
you call this a diss, and you make Hova pissed
Why I wanna do that? When I'm just the new cat
That was taught if a nigga take shots to shoot
his yard, yeah standing his ground
I'm saying if you retire, then hand 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 lines to 'em
What they say? is over let Chris and Neef do it
They say the wrong thing, I'ma smack 'em
What you Them was the only niggaz that rapped in Philly?
See niggaz with the soonies leave you wrapped in Philly
dash in groups like Beanie Mac in Philly
?? said Curtis Jack in
Make a U-turn, I go back to Philly
I forgot my cheese stake, that's I told the cops
So they wouldn't get the dogs start 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? Beef is I murk you on the spot
Labels signing many things, still for they Pac
I put purple on the
So I don't feel threatened when Ludacris say he 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
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 black out you see the cops
I ain't hot top for colors, I'm Cedar Block
So I got my hot tops make your breathing stop
I'm a gangsta slash rapper, check your CD
I'm like Elvis in there, they can't you dropped
Now I'm on up to George and Weezy's spot
I up where my homeboy Eazy stopped
I saw the coast, put the shit on my back
Sprayed Aftermath on it, then 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 to your hat
Then call up the pigs, tell them the rooster's
Call Jadakiss, tell him that duke is
I'm still by your side, no who comes strapped
Lloyd Banks, it ain't about who can rap
It's about the ?? clap, is rufus back
I see what you thinkin, you me to die, is that so?
Now you left back, thanks to Fat Joe
We got in heaven, you ready? 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 the eulogy, beef is kinda foolish see
Niggaz running their mouth about what the they gon' do to me
But quit the before I proceed to clapping
And you gon' see the captain plans of getting me captured
Even behind bars, I'm still gon'
I'm 10 years younger Yayo, I get out, I'm fine
I go right back, nigga I pop mines
How you gon' drop Olivia, you only drop
I knew you changed, when you started sleeping in vest dog
I don't 50 Cent, my niggaz make collect calls
1-800-split a nigga wig
He got G-Unit wings, them off the Queens Bridge
Now your is over, career is over
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
Take that off ??, go back to PC
And tell 50 you want a copy of Beef 3
I'm their ass out on DVD
You rhyme like Lloyd Banks repeat after me
I'm a G-Unit toy
On Sesame doing voice overs
Bitch ass nigga need a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his
Sound like Oscar the Grouch, with nursery rhymes
We was in the studio, when I got signed
He got stuck, he called 50 tryna borrow some
That's the wrong nigga, you need help with your rhymes
All he gon' tell you is say G-Unit one more
Got mad 'cause I ain't wanna make your mine
You got lucky with Ja, why you go at Shyne?
He freestyled from the pen, that's the fact
Said he'd put you with your mom, and you fucked with that
Then you lied your pops, he ain't never bust no cap
Like Father, Like Son, go ask that
I knew from the I couldn't trust those cats
I'd 'em all, if I could bring Justo back
The underground is mine, I treat it home
the reason niggaz saying my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it like
It's the reason saying my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it like
the reason niggaz saying my name like Mike Jones
I
The is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason niggaz saying my like Mike Jones
And I'm far from Houston but you can chop it and it
Do whatever to it, but it in the store the shit
Gave 'em a hundred bars, ain't think I could do it
Came with two hundred, this is more than music
Even Dre knew it, that boy hot like
Both ?? in the dirt, 300 and Runnin
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 King, Mike, or Clue
And watch them shits sell out like a Air Jordon
I told Funk Flex when I catch the nigga Kid
We see if he know how to DJ with bruised ribs
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 chain
That 380 spill brains, when I pop
Outside NY, in front of 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
him off at Terror Squad, let him scream for the jakes
'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, you'd run and go get him a cake
the DJ off your name, Mr. Instant replay
Not the instant
I mean the machine that G-Unit use every time 50 on singing like
Bitches only for your 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 to some killer shit
My clips bananas, I kill a gorilla
Beating on chest, I see to your death, yep
Ecko to make him a suit
Tell to make him some boots
Get him a head band, to the holes in his head
He a man for thinking he can walk through muddy waters like Redman
blacked out and let the gun blam without a M-E-T-H-O-D Man
So the lieutenant ask for his strings
Take my advice, never air max for the ??
you one of the Bloods, or a latin king
'cause if your left the Aryans your ass will sting
And cell mate is a 25 to lifer
They will stab you then ?? then fuck you on
And Life On
Now back to the coward of the hour who and said he write my songs
He told Dre was gonna leave me on the shelf
So he gave me all his hits, you should've kept them for
Nigga stop acting tough before I over you
Show you how The Documentary on top of The Massacre
a move I'm blasting your ass to the last one
Ten shots from the Mack the rest in the passenger
Fase yelling enough, let the coroner bag him up
Throw in and lift 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 got a hemmy 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 nigga, on pictures with the Jake nigga?
Got his crew starving 'cause he ain't the whole cake,
He ain't Nas, B.I.G., ain't Jigga
If he ain't or Pac then who you got?
We getting of you talkin about who you shot
I'll use another six to tell you who you not
You ain't 50 Cent, he went out like a
You out with Vivica, three months after wanksta
Get or Die Tryin, we thought you was hot
Now the same nigga wanna us to the Candy Shop
C'mon man, happened to the thug?
Now you could find in the club, him and Lloyd hugging
Nigga got mad when The start buzzing
So making friends now I'm into throwing slugs
Olivia talking we a family, Game had to go
I'll smack that ho like I'm Jackie-O
'cause I don't 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 and wait
To be gone, so I can head to the block
white Nike airs and the matching socks fitted

Pull the brim low, if don't get it
Bentley on gold daytons, I was the first one with it
Four times platinum, I done there and did it
Came in the and shitted, then wiped my ass with it
They say the givth, if Lord take it away
So I build a 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 to make a mistake
So they can put me in the car and lock me away
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 the winter to stay
'cause I'm a nigga when 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, 'cause the boy got
Like I close my eyes, and woke up in a Roc
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 got chains, a hundred thou can't break 'em
And the flow is hot like that wit
And the only thing I got is Daytons
The hotter I get the willing to snake 'em
So soon as the beat drop, where I take 'em
Compton Swap meet, to get me All-Stars
When Game in the house, call ??
'cause they heard about went on in D.C
about Hot 97, my beef with 50
Now me do he got a conscience?
I not, 'cause if he did I wouldn't be involved in this nonsense
Wouldn't be in Harlem, wouldn't be at this
I'd rather be rock, like ??
50 whispered in my ear, we still bonding
We ain't friends, I'm just acting Charles Bronson
Middle in the air, one hand on my Johnson
police on me like I'm the convict
What happened to the old I thought it was rhyming
E. Fresh and Dana Day on the corner like Common
Now that ain't common, it's more like Top
The flow is news, I throw it up like
And I still shine like
They me out of G-Unit and I rebounded like Rodman
It's still Aftermath, two in the pentition
I be mad, I ain't, I'm supposed to I can't because
I'm in the politican, Impala ??
And I keep a black .45 on the side of my denim
Chip on my shoulder I'm fresh outta prison
Dollar vision, blow a hundred thou like my wallet
re-up like kid before the d-cup
Continuously money with my feet up
Chasing the throne, here my Air Force
I said fuck and got the cover of The Source
Feel me? If not then I guess you kill me
But you ain't gon' do that so motherfucker back
While I do B.I.G. and 'Pac impersonations on two
When I wake the dead, everybody remove
We y'all, can I get a hand clap?
Now back to rap, why I gotta strapped?
On that T-I-P, kill you ASAP
They won't know which to patch up, when the ?? clap
I to spare you Young Buck, now it's time for payback
It go, how you from Cashville but you ain't got no cash
Say my name now your fucking ass nigga
Kept mouth shut and I gave you a pass nigga
Now I gotta lay you down like the last
Buck, buck, buck my AK-47
This nigga playing his life, I might have to put him in heaven
Tryna play the game, shit up on the stereo
Prepare for burial, it's when I'm reincarnating
And you want that David 'cause you love your life
Get my Vibe, when war he pull out butter knifes
I'ma show you who the gangsta
All you do is Inc., now who the wanksta?
Suge had you, you were stranded on Tha Row
Juve left you for dead and went to the NO
50 heard you on the tour bus and your little flow
he made you temporary replacement for Yayo
You a bitch, and that's to swallow
And you got robbed for your spinning chain in Chicago
I call my nigga Jojo to get it
He had the shit in his hands, and you had the ten stacks
Picture that, I 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 Shop
you, 50, Banks, Yayo, and the cops
And Olivia, I for a man she hot
Now I'm running out of breath, like I just boxed
Got 20 bars to go, lay it down like rock
worry about 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 three
280 in, ain't no getting me
I'm yelling fuck the world, on my lap
Remember first it was Buddens, it was Bleek
Now whoever motherfucker, yeah, who want beef?
Now whenever motherfucker, who see me?
In the coffin, body exhausted, resting in
You don't want war nigga, you want
So give 'em the peace, (sp?)
Let 'em in peace
west to east the flow is outdatable, irreplacable
Lyrical homicide, hell is hot, I'm boxing Satan
And I slipped 'em the ace, you cannot 'em
If Eazy ever to return, I remain Jayceon
A in the making, and the throne is for the taking
So I climb the top and put my stake in
Got the of the world on my shoulder
Not a nigga nor a hoodrat can stop me from taking it over
This is crack music, go get the soda
300 Bars and Runnin, nigga the is over
I'm gone...