Luyện nghe bài hát Dead Presidents II

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Bắt đầu làm bài nào

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

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

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

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