Luyện nghe bài hát Daze Of Thunder

Im in '77 Glasshouse
green in
Rims wit da nice lips,

roll me
sticky
Got them bitches pressed like I them to the cleaners
Fool lie, you aint never seen him in person
You just about them tracks he be murking
Bout them hoes I be
one up for the pimp
Got a bone bitch rolling weed, serving grits
You curly head Amanda, aint she from Atlanta
Condo on Peachtree, roommate Pamela
In with her body
Girl, dont sweat them love handles
Thats I put my hands at
I snatch you up to ram you
Ask your BFF about happened when she passed through
Barefoot by the
unraveled
Say the smoke was amazing and the bed, magical
Fuck your homegirl good and let news get back to you
Now its like you to too, curiosity
Sprung that pussycat to the house me and I killed it
Suckers hate the jet life because not allowed to live it
Fool I'm serial, killer fucking serious
this is personal, you can't get no whiff of this
I rolled shit myself and Im a smoke it til the end of it
I burn it half way down and put a behind my ear
Either way a square aint saying he got high with me
chip
motorcycle trying see
What exit I take off the so they could follow
But I tripping, I got it like money in my pocket
And a clip next to my that confirm that I'm a pilot
Im across da red carpet, laughing, spilling bottles
You stuck in your hotel suite, on you stylist
You can't get dressed without him, because you got no fly-dom
Showed up like Where the at?
Fool, they all at my
Ad-miring ass
Im a smoke to that before I tell you at get in the bed and arch your
Smooth rap, syrup, music, and Cognac
dope, surround sound, crack, all that
The sun top in a diamond
Though not on a Cadillac, because Im a Chevy
I been all over the map, my home at the
Winter hot like
, big chrome, skinny
Rust bucket, I spent 1500 on motherfucker
Another 30 racks restoring motherfucker
40 say You got a bad bitch, better tuck her,

Bay love Mac Dre
on her way to get paper
is mad we get high and get rich, aint slowing down for nothing
George the button
Like "What do this do, fuck it, goes nothing."
Your is something, else
by himself, high, off radar, stealth
For the of the jets, until its nothing left
You aint got no gas, go over there and siphon some of
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,