Luyện nghe bài hát Dollaz + Sense

Now let's get to business, bitches
'Cause it seems like y'all just keep on tryin' to diss
Nigga you know that's been down for years
clowned for years, and y'all could never fade my peers
One two three five six seven nine, ten, Eiht you can't win
'Cause all the way around nigga I respect
And youse a nigga that can't get no props in your set
Tragniew you say huh

Wanna be rippin', but now it's to do some set trippin'
So listen close, 'cause I want y'all to miss
That I'm bout to break it down for bitch, check it
Acacia, Poplar Maple Spruce Elm
West side sprayin' all the fleas
from the three and four hundred block P-Funk riders
So niggaz watch yo' ass at center divider
Now Aaron Tyler, tell my why you so tame

When I caught you at the airport, like a crap game
You looked up and you my niggaz comin
And you looked like your bitch ass was to start runnin'
But all I wanted to do was a little conversation
And see if we can fix little situation
But would I you up was what you wondered
Yeah, probably why you changed your little pager number
But like you don't grow

You can't even me in my eye, let alone go toe to toe
And callin' me skinny, a clown
I'ma call you Theo, 'cause you weigh ninety-two point three
Wack ass actor, movie script
Fool don't you know, is still the nigga
Compton psycho, boy you oughta
records don't hit, and bitches don't jock your shit
You need to stay down you clown

And get off of the nuts of the with guts
Because I'm with the Trees, I'm down with Death Row
I'm down with Black Tone, and I'm with the fo'
So we cross paths and I hope that's soon
I'ma boot motherfuckin' ass to the moon
You need to bangin' under false pretense
'Cause if don't make dollars, it make sense

If it make dollars, it don't make sense
So kill game, let the pimpin' commence
If it make dollars, it don't make sense
So kill game, let the people, commence
If it don't make dollars, it don't make
So don't game, let the pimpin' commence
If it don't make dollars, it don't sense
you gotta give it up to the crown prince

Now I'ma swing it to the right and, into the left hand
Take a deep breath and, cook it like a and
This is to the C-P-T
No yet T-T-P, or the niggaz that look up to me
I make it my business, to be that true
And whenever I can come well that's my endeavor
So whether or not you understand, that there's one DJ Q-U-I-K
no C still you can't be me
Because I'm in my Lex and, depositin' fat checks and
Gettin mad sex I floss the NSX and

Doin' what I wanna, and youse a goner
For that you can catch me slippin' on a street corner
Remember in the house, and Quik is in the hood
Sippin' yak with all my 'cause it's tooted good
So don't knock it till you try it, 'cause Eiht he tried to it
But he's still walkin' with my nuts in his pocket
So put tha P in it and sip that Miller
And for those of y'all concerned, this is still Killa
Let me a load off my scrotum little pest
If it make dollars nigga, you know the rest

If it don't make dollars, it make sense
So don't kill game, let the pimpin'
If it don't make dollars, it don't make
So kill game, let the people, commence
If it don't make dollars, it make sense
So don't kill game, let the commence
If it make dollars, it don't make sense
Because you gotta give it up to the crown

Now I done my fuckin' soul to the shit that I kick
While you ass niggaz keep on ridin' the dick
You oughta know that DJ Quik ain't average
motherfucker, slick like a snake 'cause I stuck ya
Now, I had my dick sucked by a man befo'
But you be the first you little trick ass hoe
Then you can me just how it taste
But before I nut I some piss in your face
You fuckin' coward, tremblin' like a nervous

'Cause when I caught your ass, you put in check
And when you left my presence, you left
You ain't no fuckin' killer, youse a comedian,
Tell me why you act so
Givin' your set a bad name wit your name
E-I-H-T, now should I
Yeah you left out the G 'cause the G in you
Remember that you was rollin' on the West side
And a little brown bucket pulled up on side

Caught at light in your Camry in the midst of a
Real killer, tell me did you feel a nervous
You was in the shadow of death two trey-five-sevens
Pointed at your chest gon' do, where was your
Niggaz that kill at you ain't got no killers so dat
up your hands and beggin' for a pass
You lucky they didn't just to get to on yo' ass
'Cause this you think is funny is some real shit
So you need to be more careful who you wit, beyotch!

If it don't make dollars, it make sense
So kill game, let the pimpin' commence
If it don't make dollars, it don't make
I'm through playin' with your ass
If it don't make dollars, it don't make
So don't kill game, let the pimpin'
If it don't make dollars, it don't make
you gotta give it up to the crown prince

Shouts out, to my well known road dog
up Dozun Tru, they don't understand it baby
They fade us out here on these Compton streets
It's than they can imagine to the whole entire
Death Row family sides, whassup niggaz
And my Big Suge, known for keepin' shit poppin'

To my nigga Big J, my little nigga Hi-C, straight G
And that singin' ass nigga Danny Boy
Y'all don't understand, y'all can't this
I'm the nigga that was "Bangin' on Wax"
Yeah if you remember, nineteen eighty-seven tapes
And it don't stop, and it won't