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 brung to the cleaners
Fool don't lie, you aint never him in person
You just heard about them tracks he be
them hoes I be working
Light one up for the
Got a bone bitch rolling weed, serving grits
You know head Amanda, aint she from Atlanta
Condo on Peachtree, named Pamela
In love her body
Girl, dont them little love handles
where I put my hands at
When I you up to ram you
Ask your BFF about what happened when she passed
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 like you have to too,
Sprung pussycat to the house with me and I killed it
Suckers hate the jet life because not allowed to live it
Fool I'm dead serial, fucking serious
Nigga this is personal, you can't get no of this
I rolled this shit 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 saying he got high me today
chip
motorcycle coppers see
What exit I take off the so they could follow
But I ain't tripping, I got it money in my pocket
And a clip next to my license confirm that I'm a pilot
Im stumbling da red carpet, laughing, spilling bottles
You stuck in your hotel suite, waiting on you
You can't get without him, because you got no inner fly-dom
Showed up like the hoes at?
Fool, they all at my
that ass
Im a smoke to that before I tell you at get in the bed and arch back
Smooth rap, syrup, music, and Cognac
Audio dope, surround sound, crack, all
The sun roof top in a
Though not on a Cadillac, Im a Chevy driver
I been all over the map, my at the bottom
hot like summer
, big chrome, skinny
bucket, I spent 1500 on that 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
Haters is mad we get high and get rich, slowing down for nothing
Kush the button
Like "What do this do, fuck it, here nothing."
Your is something, else
Class by himself, high, off radar,
For the love of the jets, until its nothing
You aint got no gas, go there and siphon some of theirs
Game cold, frigid air, though its
No choice for us to play, so you might as well win,
say it ain't everything, but thats that loser talk
So ask them,