Luyện nghe bài hát B Ez

I that nigga Capone's home
Yo, word to motha that nigga
Doin' his mothafuckin' thing out
Entertainment, know what I'm

Niggas still in the streets, I'll
Braveheart nigga, there's a thin
streets and business
So we gotta balance and be easy

I you fags wanna catch me off guard
Put Tecks to my heart, the death of
your breath, whispers in the dark
I hear it 'cause the ain't loyal to choose sides
Prepare for the beef, whoever lose dies and I'm thuggin'

I can't trust nothin', this that I'm fuckin'
This clip I'm bustin' could jam in my fist
Look at my hand, finger pussy with expensive
Cut coke cookies, wrote and broke noses B
The voice from heaven, I'm God sent, of a legend
This is part 1, my sermon, the hood reverand

Blunted eyes red, C-Class, a hundred five red
CD's blast, speed fast, drop dead
I'm gorgeous black Goddess flip the arm rest, the cordless
Her stacks the best, ass is flawless
Finally the awaited shit, ghetto people, the sequel
Nas, CNN, nobody's

Yo, b ez, keep the club off the
Straight thugs in the back, creezy
B ez but we smoke treezy
See us rippin' the shows with thugged

picked me the boss, Ricky Ross
Lex two-fifty power, click and devour the source
If it's flour then swallow your
I cock fours, in Poppi's doors

All for the and the cause
break big fractions of laws
So what, we got it up
every cat on the board
I speak the truth, guns at you

Shakin' my palm, pitiful, wavin' my wand
The Don, a hundred me like Farrakhan
my Henny, embrace Benny's
It's quite Frank, my niggas I'll

Never waste a penny, money well invested
Feel the on my necklace
When death is too close flip the next
Thug the game out biscuits, pull the range out

enemy, Queens Bridge where I hang out
Sweet of weed, I wear like a fragrance
My kinetic, mind power type ancient

Yo, b ez, keep the club off the
Straight thugs in the back, drink
B ez but we smoke treezy
See us rippin' the shows thugged eezy

I see death through the corner, die, come
Six 500's, up right in front of the slum
Sticky fingers soldiers of the great God
spoke to the poor but he lived in Oz

An ill hook like Roy Jones, I'm a street bastard
And crush with the hashish
head dome wrapped
Caddy trucks with the grills and the chrome

I'm on like Al Sharpton, come peep the M.U. marksman
The S-Class is shittin' on your weak
written on the Bible, my life is wicked
I see dead corpses and Rolls

Put your heart on lap, listen you hear voices
My whole is the drama and to smoke skama
I can lift it up, Willy in front of your slut
bustin' out my pocket, your bank is stopped

Yo, b ez, keep the off the heezy
Straight thugs in the back, creezy
B ez but we still smoke
See us rippin' the shows with eezy