Luyện nghe bài hát Cramp Your Style

I your style
With a and a smile

Ugh, on the D-l casin' me out
Truckin' my jewels, for the tools
they come they gots to come correct
Because they I catch wreck

A well known street vet
Step into the kill zone, baby, on
I pack the twin mills that'll lift your dome
Chrome pump with double eyed and such
A fully-auto that is sure to touch

Ya, bust you the Desert Eagle
Street legal, move my people
And the Ice evil
Hit you the .44 Smith &Wesson

You're to run 'cause my Tec eats pests
I got a glock the laser, hot police taser
Step in real close, I hit your throat with the
You live or die, it's your decision
Talk shit, dissin' I got you in my night vision

Brain fragments on the released
Another fronts hard, another nigga deceased
I got a H.K., A.K. and a
A 12 gauge sweeper with the circular clip
to let projectiles fly, you die
And watch fat moms cry, bull's eye

I cramp style
With a bullet and a
What you think all the guns is

What's up, niggas seem to hear
Still crazy, let me make this clear
Fool, the Ice havin' it
And when I let loose lead, I'm accurate

Fat scope on a
Sawed-off barrel and a pistol grip
Pump on my lap at all
I fill my shells with nickels and dimes

Thompson Center .45 slugs
Black Mac-11, Python .357, .38 or .380
Seventy Automatic, full metal
Hollow points comin' atcha
You feel the before you hear the blast

I cramp your
With a bullet and a

Muthafuckas frontin'
Lookin' at niggas and shit make a nigga break
don't want me to pull out
I like shootin' but I do shoot straight

I be rollin' with will shoot up a wake
Why you step in the sights of a nigga
Known trigger, the coroner delivers
More cold bodies to the morgue weekend

One minute you bleed, the next minute you're
Best to close 'cause this ain't no boast
And never forget that I you wet
Bloody, sticky, in your dickey's
Oh what a pity, lookin' all

My Winchester get the best of ya
Hand grenades will all the rest of ya
I reach out and touch you the parabellum
You got a crew, you better 'em