Luyện nghe bài hát Bout It Bout It Part. 3

[Intro: P] + (Cam'Ron)
Yo Cam, flip this thing on these niggaz
me
(Let's do it my nigga)
Well do dizang
(There's nothin', man)
(Up top, south, right)
Oh yeah, oh
(We it)
whoadie
(Yeah)
Yo, this one here out to them boys
That's it, bout it
Master P,
We takin' from the South to the East

I represent, where them at
and Broadway you get your head cracked
Get your legs snapped, arm trist, ribs
Wig tapped, play fair day care napped
You you real, well my posse is crazier
Your moms mobbin' and her, Saudi Arabia
I'm 89 and oh, and eightiers
Beef in N-O I had to call No up
mack baby gat love the way the baby
Got my boo, cop the X5, that's a baby truck
Santana rollin' big, in the Caddy
Dayton, Youngstown, Cleveland,
In the I represent the C-O
ho, Harlem World forty if that's me, yo
Clipse eleven or get seven off
Snow so white only thing missin' is dwarfs

[Hook] P]
Killa Cam, you he bout it, bout it
Jim Jones, you know he it, bout it
Freeky Z, you know he it, bout it
Santana, that boy it, bout it
Harlem World, you know they bout it, it
Diplomats, you know rowdy, rowdy
145th and Broadway, boys real
You know them boys, they play

Aiiyo, I'm bouncin' through an or two
My crib look the Fountainblue
A fountain too, no water, only Mountain Dew
on y'all little cats I was bound to do
I a weird, chickenheads can't pronounce my shoes
I got head but need more
to the whorehouse, soon as the tour's out
Papi's rotten, my block top was spoppy
I pop ack over some oxi
Cotton club and Robins
and rocks we poppin'
Booties, oozies and stop 'em
on his head, copper top him
When I'm in the dogg, you got to watch him
Got to spot him tray eight a revolver
The D.A., seargent and coroner's - now
Highs get eight done, dips that don't play
Jim Jones, Freeky, Killa and the one - Santana

[Jim
You I claim (What you claim?) where them gangstas bang
and Lennox, nine tray they do they own thing
In uptown, up on 40 a Sean hit the block
Dogg he move that water shit, he the network
Over wet work, you come up short on paper get a wet shirt
Then if you walkin' Foster and Taft
Flossin' cash and gangstas put the torch to your ass
And I forget AK and Wagner
My dogs straight crazy 'cause the blast ya
One callin' Sheik and Q
LB's and Sally your crew, now come on
And stacks, right in front the liquor store
Hennesy, me me you know the flipped the raw
Much upset, oh they bout it
16 shots up out the glock I about it

P]
140 Lennox, you know they it, bout it
and up top, you know they rowdy, rowdy
Master P, the New No
You see us hustlas keep it real, that's why we keep
Blackadome, you know he bout it, it
Lucius Sheist, you know rowdy, rowdy
on, man we gangstas fo' sho
CP-3 Dirty South, the N-O
C-Murder, hold the down
We get whoadie even on lockdown
ATL, you know they it, bout it
Mississippi, Detroit, you they rowdy, rowdy
L.A., you know bout it, bout it
and North Carolina, you know they rowdy, rowdy
Oklahoma and Tennessee, and Texas, they B-O-U-T
Seattle it, Hawaii rowdy
Alaska, Chicago, I mean bout it, bout it
Indiana, you know bout it
St. Louis, Kentucky, you know they rowdy,
Phoenix it, Milwaukee bout it
The N-O to the N-Y, you know we rowdy,

[Outro][Jim Jones & P]
Bounce bounce bounce
Bounce bounce bounce
(You know rowdy, rowdy)
Bounce bounce bounce
Bounce bounce bounce
(You know rowdy, rowdy)
bounce bounce bounce
Bounce bounce bounce
(You know rowdy, rowdy)
Bounce bounce fool