Luyện nghe bài hát Dead The Funeral

'For big blowgun, fag nigga's bitch, doj' an'
chrome, sick Rover, Zeke home so bend over
He looked at me and said "Killa I'll be your pitcher, the bing was rough"
I nigga I did the bid wit' ya
Capiche, not Mona Lisa the big picture
Six scriptures, six blickers, triggers, strip niggaz
The Big Dipper, liquor, big liver
Now that you home the shit differ, I dig nigga
Soon as a nigga whisper, believe we jiggin'
He Brand in a barber chair, he'll get the Clippers
I don't care who you are, the point, don't be pa
We with guns, shooting stars
Yeah ya bras, a few of ours in through-in cars
21, Blackjack, I knew ya cards
Kid roll, Rowe like Kennedy
Friends with me at the graveyard, visits old enemies
Some bitched, some snitched, some us dough
on the tombstone, write on it, "Told you so"
Check my portfolio, I was poor rose to dough
what I'm about in a drought I score, overflow
I'm the waterboy, wet work for water
The price is nice, TLC, waterfalls
Fiends it all, this fact I report to y'all
Go inside, them all, from short to tall you oughta ball
And the ballas live and all my friends all to win
This the second time around, shit you call again
Damn yo' lady fine, you been on yo' baby
Me I'm 86, temp, P-89s
Everyday we shine, fine, pay me mind
My are retarded, you can call 'em crazy times
Mines are than brothers
We gon' rock til the Range, Benz, and clutter
Garage, colors
Yeah box, for that, payola doc
I'll lay you over a stroller with the strangest ock
Is it not, huh, we immune to you
We shoot the wake up, striaght up and dead the

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

And you heard Rell, I do worst foul
They Roberta, lawyer murdered murder trials
We deserve to style, on Persian tile
On the with millions, Durst to Al
I get in layers, not the Daily News
But when I flip, I make the papers, hate the
I'm a gangsta, I fuck ma, go a player
Man these dudes are fish market, straight ya
Went to war Kromo, then Pataki
Guilliani, then I went to North 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 said I gave the whole ghetto birds
Man your case go find it, need a new
That ain't giving out, first of all that's for silent
to play
You got no gunwounds, jail time, felonies, real shit on your
I get you yay, not tomorrow, yesterday
If they ask, say, snitch and we never play, ay