Luyện nghe bài hát Do What Playas Do

Uhh (uhh)
Wanna blow? (wanna blow? ) pretty (pretty tone)
house (suave house) eightball (eightball) tony draper (draper)
All out (all out), (murder)
Harlem world (harlem world), children (problem children)
Y'all niggaz got (y'all niggaz got problems)
Uhh (uhh) uhh (uhh) yo (yo)

Now I can play with these hoes, or four-fours
the situation, may call for
I can linen, pimp hard, court women
the ice, hand to waves all spinnin
Or I can get in, to some real thug
robbery, slash, deal drug shit
Peel quick, cause I'm versatile
I can ice grill, but I'm when I smile
Expert with style, give hoes cash
All I give em, is hard and coke in they ass
Bitch, move that, playa, true dat
catch feelings, when they chick say, "who dat? "
Representin from the bronx, to the dirty
Spittin drug flows, my dirty mouth
We got it all, from to eightballs
Yeah we players, and refs, we calls

Chorus: (repeat 2x)

Now wanna do what a playa do
But everybody can't do what a do
(I see you playa) all in the mix
I see you (yeah I got my shit tight)

Bring it to niggaz I don't be slippin on my
Sick when I'm gone off that first name mary
Eightball, ain't no other this southern brother
Crazy motherfucker, pooh booty duster
Never been a point or a hoe saver
a weed craver, suave house assassinator
To the dirt, and we put that on the house bitch
Gold in the mouth shit, straight shit
Orange mound slow the down to pull the fo'-pound
Beat a hoe down, and fall up in the to' down
I like them dirty hoes, down to get for a dollar
Thick yella cinderella, shop scholar
shit, and i'ma keep it straight +space age+
Every year, turn the of life to a new page
Kick rhymes hotter than texas in
Suave house playa til the day I die, uhh

Sauve house motherfucker, all out
Wanna motherfucker? team nigga til I'm low motherfucker
Yo, I went o-t to o-c to all the paper
to fatigue then ? the gators
If ain't about the money call me later
How many talk benzes? seen them one
Not videos and shit, those don't count
I'm the talkin millions and, own the amount
Mr. frosty, the nigga fold for chips
When the on the line bitch I roll trips
Cut a off for a week and let her know what she miss
Hundred grand of shit nigga glow on my wrist
a range just to go with the six
When I flip for these chips, shit is over a bitch
You got some nerve, I can give a one word, get em
You will see how niggaz miss him
I put in the air let the shit hit em
Put the gun inside his mouth and let the kiss him
you drive all tinted, I put my honey in it
Won't, stop bank, ain't enough money in it
Live a lifestyle rarely told, you know about
down eighth, gettin head in the rolls
You had, like that you wouldn't be measurin those
You barely sold, barely gold
send it rough I send it back the same way it came
You ain't dissin me until you say my name,