Luyện nghe bài hát A.W.O.L.

It's interlude motherfucker
You know it's Animal the Bully nigga, MTB
You know how I do it the way I do it I do it the way I do it
Motherfucker stab you in throat with a icepick
you in the face with a beebee gun
Whatever I do to bring you to the conrete I'ma do it, you
My motherfuckin nigga A, the closin of the album nigga
I salute you nigga, for never a bitch
For bein a bitch-ass nigga {*music starts*}
Cryin, retirin, sayin you comin to the game
Go God and comin back, keep gettin shot and comin back
Niggaz doin mixtapes and back
Lyin 'til y'all caught guns and comin back
Keep comin baby, you in the top five man
niggaz pay The Source for mics man
Cause you don't how to be an original nigga from the streets
I respect you man, close it out this, 2-double-oh-5
the world, you heard, say what's up A.W.O.L. take it

I am one of the flyest, crew is the Al'Qaeda's
We war in the mess halls of Elmyra
get caught, predicate spells is higher
Why talk if you ain't walk hell's fire
All-nighters, upscale
In car get new cars you and your admire
Young messiah, back guns for hire
I am that the rap contracts require
Ghostwriter, coast to coast
I do this for them grown men in diapers that like us
Though, the nicest, sendin kites to Riker's is priceless
on past life fights with Cypress
Hung lifeless, sprung from financial
Never ran, I stand the righteous
AZ-Q, denimy V suits
His, arson is lethal, only pardon his so
Just ask it the closed casket
Coke or the dope I'm back on that old Shaft shit
Got my ratchets, fatigue jacket
cap on backwards with them cats from Flatbush
Bravehearted, fuck if say squash it
We remain the largest, we regardless
Trains to insane with a brain from Hartford
It's hard to explain my
One for the haters, two for the true and the
I know dudes who eat your food a razor
It's major, barbaric, brutal
Called addict, I talk the jewelry later
My is for the DL cartel connects
And the crews that came through and left well effect
Finesse, big only play with the best
It's no regrets, bein dead and raised in the 'jects
I'm a vet, cousin callin collect
Sayin he left the box hot annoyed and depressed
Claimin he stressed did a 3 still the stress
I'm like look this ain't the and you ain't facin your death
So save your breath, tie your boots up and bang the rest
Cause in reality just incarcerated your flesh
You know the deal, I pray they process your
Cause on the real, I still got my hands on the
And drive 'til the gas run out
Either crash or a 'til a smash come out
We real niggaz