Luyện nghe bài hát Dead The Funeral

'For leaf big blowgun, fag bitch, doj' an'
Peach chrome, sick Rover, home so bend over
He looked at me and said "Killa be your kitchen pitcher, the bing was rough"
I said I did the bid wit' ya
Capiche, not Mona it's the big picture
Six scriptures, six blickers, grip triggers, niggaz
The Big Dipper, swig liquor, big
Now that you home watch the shit differ, I dig
Soon as a whisper, believe we jiggin' Jigga
He Elton Brand in a barber chair, he'll get the
I don't care who you are, the point, don't be pa
We celebrities with guns, shooting
Yeah remove ya bras, a few of ours in cars
21, Blackjack, I knew ya cards
Kid roll, Peter Rowe Kennedy
Friends with me at the graveyard, from old enemies
Some bitched, some snitched, owed us dough
on the tombstone, write on it, "Told you so"
Check my portfolio, I was poor then to dough
what I'm about in a drought I score, overflow
I'm the waterboy, wet work for call
The price is nice, TLC, some
Fiends snort it all, this fact I report to
Go inside, extort them all, from short to tall you ball
And the ballas live and all my friends all to win
the second time around, that shit you call again
Damn yo' lady fine, you been on yo' grind
Me I'm 86, highest temp,
Everyday we shine, fine, pay me mind
My are retarded, you can call 'em crazy times
Mines are more brothers
We gon' rock til the Range, Benz, and Porsches
Garage, colors
Yeah Crayola box, for that, doc
I'll lay you over a stroller the strangest odor ock
Is it not, huh, we immune to you
We shoot the up, striaght up and dead the funeral

Ay yo the fuck up
I said we shoot the wake up and dead the fu--
You dead already we gon' the fu--
Matter son, bring that shit back up, fuck it

And you heard Rell, I do than foul
They Roberta, lawyer murdered murder trials
We deserve to style, walk on tile
On the with millions, Durst to Al
I get in layers, not the Daily News
But when I flip, I the papers, hate the mayor
I'm a gangsta, I fuck ma, go a player
Man these dudes are market, straight fillet ya
Went to war with Kromo, Pataki
Then Guilliani, then I went to Cackalacky
What you gon' a mobster, cake was hella proper
No Petey Pablo when I saw them
That's the niggaz, trinckets from the ghetto bird
Her word said I gave the whole ghetto
Man your go find it, need a new assignment
That giving out, first of all that's call for silent
to play
You got no gunwounds, jail time, felonies, real shit on your
I get you extra yay, not tomorrow,
If they ask, say, snitch and we never play, ay