Luyện nghe bài hát Armoire

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

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

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

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