Luyện nghe bài hát Daze Of Thunder

Im in '77 Glasshouse
kelly in
wit da nice lips, Angelinas

roll me
steamer
Got them bitches pressed like I brung to the cleaners
don't lie, you aint never seen him in person
You just heard about tracks he be murking
Bout them I be working
one up for the pimp
Got a yellow bone bitch weed, serving grits
You know curly head Amanda, aint she from
Condo on Peachtree, named Pamela
In with her body
Girl, dont sweat them little handles
where I put my hands at
When I you up to ram you
Ask your BFF about what when she passed through
by the castle
mind
Say the smoke was amazing and the bed, life
Fuck your homegirl good and let news get back to you
Now its you have to too, curiosity
that pussycat to the house with me and I killed it
Suckers hate the jet life because they not to live it
Fool I'm dead serial, fucking serious
this is personal, you can't get no whiff of this
I rolled this myself and Im a smoke it til the end of it
I burn it half way and put a clip behind my ear
Either way a square aint he got high with me today
chip
motorcycle trying see
What exit I take off the interstate so could follow
But I tripping, I got it like money in my pocket
And a clip next to my license that confirm I'm a pilot
Im stumbling across da red carpet, laughing, spilling
You stuck in your suite, waiting on you stylist
You can't get without him, because you got no inner fly-dom
Showed up Where the hoes at?
Fool, all at my room
that ass
Im a smoke to that before I tell you at get in the bed and arch back
Smooth rap, syrup, chill music, and
Audio dope, sound, crack, all that
The sun top in a diamond
Though not on a Cadillac, Im a Chevy driver
I been all over the map, my home at the
Winter hot summer
, big chrome, rubber
Rust bucket, I spent on that motherfucker
30 racks restoring that motherfucker
40 say You got a bad bitch, better tuck her,

Bay love Mac Dre
on her way to get some
Haters is mad we get high and get rich, aint down for nothing
George Kush the
Like "What do this do, fuck it, goes nothing."
Your is something, else
by himself, high, off radar, stealth
For the love of the jets, until its left
You aint got no gas, go over there and some of theirs
Game cold, frigid air, its fair
No choice for us to play, so you might as win, mane
say it ain't everything, but thats that loser talk
So ask them,