Luyện nghe bài hát Armoire

For linx
Yellow gold, cold, my mink
I'm from the the school of old, out my ring
I won a bowl of hash,I saw the Mona Lisa blink
Not off my ass
Cause I lean the Tower of Pisa on stained glass
At the church, funeral services for this
tryna steal my style, I can hear 'em in my sleep
Like young thieves outside tryna in your Z
28 or your S, they hit your Trans-Am
For your big nose hood and you know them man
And I swear ain't no good, but I'm not surprised
Cause all fair in the game
Of fucking bitches due to your street fame
shit's wicked, deserves a documentary
Deadstocks on my feet, I'm walking history
Niggas is beast hype, tryna be like we write
Ain't nothing but Jet Life

I'm talking stacks in the walls, floors,
A house made of money, feel what I'm
(Cause this rap shit just my baby, we paper chasing)
(Cause rap shit just my hustle baby, we paper chasing)
I'm talking pounds in the fridge, stack in the armoire
Constant of what the fuck we grind for
(Cause rap shit just my hustle baby, we paper chasing)
(Cause this rap shit just my hustle baby, we chasing)

Still at it, Jet Set
I'm, from the city of choppers and levee crackage
All completed, bitch I'm All-Madden
Smoking out the E-Class
It's just that "to the airport" action, I am more Mr. 2
Still running triple O on my new hoes
than one time was I told that I was too cold
Gucci Mane, tryna be grizzly burr on hoes
Foundation laid, and from that, a rose
When my driver bring yo bitches home, ask her how that Caddy
You can tell that she was with daddy, just her clothes
and smoke, that's all I know

I'm talking in the walls, floors, ceilings
A house made of money, feel what I'm
(Cause this rap shit my hustle baby, we paper chasing)
(Cause this rap just my hustle baby, we paper chasing)
I'm talking in the fridge, hundred stack in the armoire
Constant reminders of the fuck we grind for
(Cause this rap shit just my baby, we paper chasing)
(Cause this rap shit my hustle baby, we paper chasing)