Luyện nghe bài hát City Of Dank

[Baby
your boy, Baby beesherelli mane,
La clika,
that yay area dogg,
Down South mane, Houston, Texas mane, my smokin' cousin

Mister S-P

[Baby
S-P-M baby boy, Park Mexican,
my nephew, young Happy P,
Man on the track, one love,

One time for that

Beesh]
Ikeman my boy, representin' that clique mane,
Houston, mane,
We to show you how we get down mane, check it out

[Chorus (Baby & Ikeman):]
[Baby
Where I from, the city of dank,
Where niggas hop, snort, and smoke crank,
Where anything's and nothin' fa sho,
High off Khadafi mixed blow

Well I from, the city of drank,
Where niggas tar, ride and drip paint,
Grip the grain, the lane,
on them thangs,
Got the with the bang 'cause the South on there stayin'

Verse (Baby Beesh):]
Some of you G's help it,
We love our money green the Boston Celtics,
felt it 'cause every saucy Chicano's down with Latino Velvet,
Don't get it twisted, we got some in case you missed it,
Straight the Buh-ay, where them niggas keep it playeristic,
Now every hour, a is devoured,
Some perkin', off the powder, some go mental flowers,
Smokin' in the Navi, or the four door fleetwood caddy,
Geekin', while we or smellin' the puporalli,
jokers what we ran with,
And haters just can't stand it,
They frantic us hispanics,
like the Titanic nigga,
Seven seas, I'm to cop seven keys,
All folks with the 2-0-9's got ones for eleven G's,
So I passin' Baby Beesh all about that scrilla scratchin',
Hooked up the Ikeman now we robbin' in Guerilla fashion,
Eighteen a bullet, we bumpin' totally insane,
I'd to praise the Mac God for showin' me the game

[Second (Ike Man):]
Off the top, all us realas R we goin' hard,
Down South we hit the bar, 'dro up in the guards,
Foreign car we low, bout my fetty and the dough,
For those that don't know three and a quarter for the bow,
Lime lil' apartment, kind that make you wanna rhyme,
But oh, dollar shine, it takes time to 'em blind,
I'm on the to go and get,
I got my ready to spit,
about my digits,
Feds me 'cause I did it,
I done it into green, with my cousin' lil' beam,
We be hoggin' up the with our mugs on mean,
7-1-3, we coldest, from the they can't hold us,
Got the bricks, got the boulders, let the know it's over,
and S-P-M, and that Mexican Baby Beesh,
Down to make cash from the bay to seven one tre,
how we do it like some G's,
Makin' from these ki's,
Every block we bleeds,
About to put game on freeze

[Third (SPM):]
sipper, born to crack flipper,
Jugglin' hoes like my boy Tripper,
slippers, on my smoke ray Lac,
I was broke way back, down a train track,
Mary Jane sacks my ass a brain lapse,
Insane ridin' with strange cats,
gats, nothin' special but do the job,
Rollin' 'round tryin' to find new to rob,
A lot of what you smoke, a lot of you snort,
Playin' crack bars seemed to be my sport,
My only dance floor was the hot store,
Beat 'em down, hol' 'em up, that boy don't 'em no more,
cracker, neck snapper, don't make the Mex act a,
Muthafuckin' on the best actor,
Lead blaster, I it hits you where it has to,
It's the S-P-M sippin' syrup mixed with