Luyện nghe bài hát City Lights

(talking)

Young wild livin street life on the edge
Not if tomorrow they could turn up dead.
Yo fuck regular cops niggaz get by the feds.
The ghetto in bloodshed (yo), we live in bloodshed.

I this african cat jet black, gold grill
Said we can split a half a mil if I could get his killed.
The feds on him, jake to seven on patrol.
Cops shot on the by his man thats on parole.
Now he haunted, had a big but he pawned it.
Watchin fox, saw his on america's most wanted.
With three seeds to feed, stressed out bricks.
So he got a fix, roll with his click.
Stay twisted, robbin ducks for their bucks.
One day he slipped up, two shells to his gut.
But he
To say the first wasnt shit.
you workin wit?
A 22 kid?
he flipped quick, bust back from four-fifths.
Six fire, four hit, one the pelvis.
The went through his wrist.
that for accurate?
The kids for life.
Equipped a permanent limp.
He was ill he was young, tryin to raise his son.
Everytime beef come he the mac one-one.
two g's on gold to impress the hoes.
Got money in milwaukee with a on the low.
He the 5 boros, everyday fly
he couldn't die.
Bags of hydro in da 5, high.
He had a rep for hijackin, extortion, kidnappin.
Shootin up clubs, airport trafficking.
He met his match, fuck and rob the wrong cat.
For a hundred and eighty g's the God want his back.
Now a gun battle.
But the son ain't fessin, he his wesson.
These niggaz lookin for me i'ma shoot ass a lesson.
all out, kill or be killed, what's done is done.
These not stoppin me from havin my fun.
He at the tunnel, flexin his whip, dipped.
Had to much cavarsia so he to slip.
Oh shit! their go dem niggaz I stuck
That black truck. a fuck.
They want their cream, let my gat bust.
Let his shells fly, the God got hit he wounded.
The liquor started talkin didn't what he was doin.
He the whip, jumped out ran to sixth
a cab.
"yo me to madison ave"
He did too much to live, and too to turn back.
Lay bleedin, wonderin why it had to end that.
Nobodys left, the just me and myself.
In back the back of the cab, son to death.
fucked up he was a good nigga...

[word up..the stories..know what I'm sayin.]
up, wit the inner city kids...yeah.]

Young wild niggaz livin street life on the
Not knowin if tomorrow could turn up dead.
Yo fuck regular cops niggaz get by the feds.
The live in bloodshed (yo), we live in bloodshed.

wild niggaz livin street life on the edge
Not knowin if tomorrow they could up dead.
Yo fuck regular niggaz get scoped by the feds.
The ghetto live in (yo), we live in bloodshed.

And we die in bloodshed, up.
We born to the paradise so your life, word up.
man move on, word up.
Head strong..to the one..men on lock down.
up.
Gun rule, the bx, bk, know I'm sayin, shaolin.
up, queens niggaz, word up