Luyện nghe bài hát Camouflage & Murder

Ay nigga, you Mac
What you in this motherfucker

Camouflage nigga what, you'll me in the cut
shit up for every nigga, the bigger pig the bigger trigger
'Cause my niggaz in the
Stories about the Mac, will make 'em

They prolly at crib loading they techs
who I'ma smoke next
Patrolling set, Malcolm X nigga
The New Orleans Jesus, pack a
And you can bring the to Zeus
If you about what that third about

feel that, that fake shit we 'bout to kill that
On the for black, I never show-boat
Be on the low, a black sto' the Mac flow
like a cracked flo', a different plateau, the Mac show
When I though, I never turn my back 'cause
The bullets, penetrate the back

C-Murder, man 187
Oh you in on one
Get shit, boy, you going upstate
the world, bitch

Nigga I'm C, motherfucking Murder never
But very necessary to leave my adversaries buried
Crack sales bring in lines but I'm eternal
Lethal stay cocked, many niggaz may drop

From the top like flies, I despise you
crooked smiles, make a nigga wanna 'nap your child
Niggaz bleed, my enemies fearing
move with silence, when nigga bring the violence

Do they know, me and my soldiers than glue
We pass and weed, my nigga Mac planting seeds
Let the devil it, bailing making the scene
I whoop the nigga ass in jail, he was a dope

And no calls, ghetto pictures on the wall
You gotta crawl and fall, before you ball fuck y'all
Around the way, my niggaz feel what I'm
It's Camouflage and Murder nigga, so pay attention,

Currency, I hope you got
'Cause your bail two million dollars, you that
You rap mother
Hold, hold, hold, up man
I got two million cash, call Stan
I'm out this bitch, you me

What you do, when you get out of jail
Sketch off the scene, in a ML
4-30, Benz truck four bitches inside
Who all about a dog and his friends fuck

I'm too for haters
My niggaz bud tote guns, picture they all on paper
I'm 'bout niggaz like Big, you know who
Ceedy, Wayne, Geezy, it the whole crew

Uh, we all roll with nines and 'bout 'em fly
But I try to stay on the low with
Catch lil' daddy slipping, point the 4-4 at his
your body in the forest, where no one can find

And you boys, don't none of that
I know niggaz that look at jail
Like Summer camp back
Yeah, ya