Luyện nghe bài hát Don't Blame it on Me

[E-40] Youse a fool. You like you fin to earl
They can have all the armor but calm doesn't harm

Chorus One:

cross the game, and get yo' head to' off
Disrespect the game, ya get yo' to' off
Your faulty bitches main? A getcha to' off
Fuck with my riches main? And head to' off, beittch!

I'm erog-enous, most dog in
Dark like a clot, but now I'm saucy
Hoes me they number like an alley-oop
But I slam it in the trash, if she ain't got, ass and
Shoot, all mine in the nine sizzle
Pistol still fizeal fine, direct hits make em
I no liar, I put it on my flow
Niggaz around, they get they head to' off

What's up? They us
Them fools ain't to fight no wars
You talkin about bang
That's the way this shit go
Just let your hang
Don't think about do it
when you think about it
Before you know it, you it
I ain't got shit to
No nigga, no sarges
Get your rowdy
Do it today not
Check inventory
Make sure you got enough
self-explanitory
Don't let em out the candle, biotch!

Chorus Two:

Think about it 'fore you pop shit
Cause if they find you crew, they pack split
Don't it on me (4X)
(repeat all 2X)

You came up
is fast
She'll serve everybody
for the
She to party
her ass-lick pussy-lick

ass

And we grown men, we turn trill hoe out
And all we ever did was stuck dick in her
We wines to the millionaires
Ball players that play, you better keep bitch out the Bay

The less
The sluts, the drug
Oldest profession to mankind
is
When I a zillion I resign
just like
But you me I'm always a day or two late
and a short

I a bitch that love Legit and do whatever I tell her to
From credit card to givin head to you
So if you breathe, know what I mean, that ass
for the boss, get that ass to' off

One
Two

I got dreams of a mansion with the glass
a million point five in the stash box
I let the knock, I let the ass drop
And if a nigga run up, he get

Case two forty six, she been in an unhappy dwellin
Neighbors steady complainin, bout the dope
But they ain't never been evicted, or
They ain't never been subpeonaed to court, or

I to tell em like I once told fools what's up
Fonzarelli and the get they cash and loss
I'm the coast, where we don't play that kid shit
And get they motherfuckin wig split

Ahhhhh I spits nothin less than hi-tech
We can on each other or we can put on the gloves
make me mad let me know, if you want more spot
I can do playa, get the driveshaft all off, biotch!

One
Two (to fade)