Luyện nghe bài hát Countin Money

Fuck a rubber band a need a buncha birds (X4)
intro - Gucci Mane (Yo Gotti)]
Yo, Gucci, brrrr, R.I.P. Pimp C mane, brrrr
(This that my, straight my)

Money all day, money all day
money all day, count money all, money all
Count money all day, count money all day, count all
Money all, all, money all day

[Bun B - 1]
Say mane, no where I go, no matter what I do
If chillin' wit' myself, or ballin' wit' my
The skies is lookin' cloudy or Bahama blue
I got that on my mind, so tell me what it do
And if you be like me, then you already it
We goin' for the money then we right through it
Take it to the table baby, chop it up and it
'Cause it ain't nothin' to it come from, but to do it
We get it in our hands, and then it go through the fingas
We standin' on the in a fresh set of swangas
We pop a couple tags, put fresh up on the hangas
That struggle and can't nair nigga change us
Believe that I was famous 'fore I ever did a
I had a poppin' 'fore a label put me on
It's 2010 and I ain't nothin' wrong
But niggas countin' all day fuckin' long

[Yo Gotti - 2]
Money totin', carrying young nigga thugged out
Very first I ever dropped was in a drug house
Razor blades, sandwich bags, Louis shoes, swag
Rubber bands, duffle bags, small bills, bags
Apple chain on my neck, you that cost stoopid cash
Maserati for the wash, that's that cash
Penitentiary chances, '6's on a car
Bun helped me keep it real and watch it me far
My money don't fold, this here
I ain't it for no hoes, I ain't get this off of shows
Count all day, count money all night
Trust no one wit' my paper, so I count my twice
I been on out my paper, so I sleep wit' it at night
Now I up wit' to my paper so I start my day off right
They call me Gotti, and it's money over bitches
Mr. White, he be always in the kitchen

[Gucci - Verse 3]
me Gucci
I'm the bitch you smell me
Ain't no need to ya sneakers
Three bricks, a split wit' me, then bitch you got a hit
Big money on my leisure, pop bottles top models
Wit' my goons in Rico, yo' girlfriend I'ma freak her
Believe me I'm a giant, it to the lemurs(?)
I see my paper plus my cojan on the Sanyo
The rapper that you know, people look like Cujo (Gucci)
I get a million ties and sold your guys for uno
So tune into East Atlanta, don't change the channel ma
Roll the windows back up
In my Phantom my automa
out my partner, naw
Don't you want this
Thinkin' you angry 'cause my neck look like the Mardi Gras