Luyện nghe bài hát Chevy Anthem

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Bắt đầu làm bài nào

(Intro)

Remix! (Rick Ross)
Remix! (Rick Ross)
Remix! (Rick Ross)
Chevy Ridin Boy (Yo Gotti)
Its Rickey (Rick Ross)
Mon E. G. (Mon E. G.)
Its Mon E. G. (Rick Ross)
Rickey (Mon E. G.)
Its Rickey (Rick Ross)
Mon E. G. (Mon E. G.)
And Mon E. G. (Rick Ross)
Yo Gotti! (Yo Gotti)

(Yo Gotti)
I my first Chevy 73'
I was 17 wit a whole B
It was money green, fat boy triple
Tha 20's era, right when we stop ridin
Lamb'd up ride, 30 rims glide
6 feet off tha make it hard fa you ta see inside
Surround sound a motion picture
aquafina rims got my ocean
Hit a button, car up
button, do' lift up
People lookin, tha fuck
What is that, a car or
Hit tha lot, tha top
Bitch jump in, ta block
VIP killed tha club, headed ta my otha spot
Mashin off 454, look like Im off
Rubba burnin, yawl
Rims damn fallin off
Yo Gotti, naw I aint petty
So I wanna welcome my ta my 100 grand Chevy

(Chorus 2x)
Chevy high boy (Mon E. G.)
My Chevy fly (Yo Gotti)
Got me and yo mama (Mon E. G.)
off in tha sky (Yo Gotti)
Mon E. G. (Mon E. G.)
Yo (Yo Gotti)
Its Rickey (Rick Ross)
No lie (Mon E. G.)
Its tha (Mon E. G.)
Chevy Anthem Remix, my Ridin High (Yo Gotti)
Yes Sir! (Mon E. G.)

(Mon E. G.)
Chevy ridin high, candy paint make my teeth hurt
30's on them low pros, gas brake skurt
Suicide doors wit tha stick in tha
My whole arm stay icy, keep my in ya whore
You dont really wanna race me at tha light, red green flight
Glass loud pipes, tv's are too bright
Outta spite, Ima up tha sound ta drown ya music
Cocaine charger, reminiscin tha Cool Whip
2 seconds done dipped, smashed out in tha glass
West Coast mentallity, here ta drop tha ass out
Im out on errthang, underdog, deadly game, big block fast, put that on errthang
You can call me Diddy like Sean, hit the bar winnin
Feelin like we winnin tha World Series in tha 9th innin
Free ya mind like John Lennon, interior lemon
Cuz Im true to every ball out like tha Pistons

(Chorus 2x)

(Rick Ross)
I started weed dreamin of a 7-3
Dat didnt cut it so fuck it we out here sellin
Now my roof suede, and my gator
I aint want tints, I to see haters
We rollin back to back, and we slow
Whitney Houston wit me, nigga Im blow
You suckas slow, im talkin to who coppin mo
They talkin sideways, what tha choppas fo
Sittin on them silver datins, that bigga rankin
I blew out tha brains, fuck what niggas thinkin
Multi-millionaire, wit crack crumbs
So when you them glass packs, its time to act up