Luyện nghe bài hát Dead Presidents II

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Bắt đầu làm bài nào

Presidents to me
I'm out for to represent me
I'm out for dead fuckin' presidents to me

While others spit Wonderama shit, me and my conglomerate
Shall remain anonymous, up in the finest shit
Live out my until my heart give out
Involved cream, you know exactly what this shit's about
Fuck y'all mean? since a teen, I dish out
Like the point guard off your team, without doubt
My life ain't rosy but I roll it
My mind was 'til the dough hit it and told me that the Mo' did it
And now it's kosher, is so Hasidic
I blow a digit on a diamond in a but no bitches
how I'm walking cause even the thoroughest niggas be narkin'
Tryin' to a bargain hoping that they might get pardoned
Shit I'm with got me pins and needles
And my cerebral breeds the wickedest evil that this sport'll feed you
Peep facts, in the game so deep fiends catch ya
off my knee cap, can y'all believe that?
Got the drinking Cristals, re-up the fee
Rappers going broke, tryin' to up with me
My rise to riches the bitches: think harder
You this nigga, Jay-Z, Shawn Carter
G.S. the fuck up, the fuck up
Watch me like a Breitling, begets the fuck up
All rhymers forget it like
timers, I said it, I'm addressing all dramas
to me

Presidents to me
I'm out for to represent me
I'm out for dead fuckin' to represent me

So of niggas, "I want money like Cosby" (who wouldn't?)
This the kinda that make me think you probably ain't got no pudding
Niggas got them kinda dreams Jay
You in the streets, nigga, your moves, get your mill
Niggas'll coast in the SL but can't bail
roast a L but scared to throw your toast, well
I'm here to tell niggas it ain't all
heaven, then there's hell niggas
One day you're cruising in your 7, next day you're sweating, forgetting your
ain't matching up, bullshit catching up
Hit with the RICO, they repo vehicle
Everything was all good a week ago
to start bitching ain't you? Ready to start snitching ain't you?
I'll forgive your ass; hustling just ain't you
Aside from the fast cars, honeys shake they ass at bars
You know you be involved
the underworld dealers, carriers of mac-millers
East Coast bodiers, West Coast
Little monkey niggas turn
at the station, filled up on octane
And now they not and not playing, that goes without saying
day in and day out with money playing, then they play you out
Trying to escape my own mind, lurking the
infinity with presidencies, you know?