Luyện nghe bài hát Fuck 'Em

Verse 1: Ross]
C-note after c-note, put the on my kilo
I wouldn't make it, now I'm winning -- Timothy Tebow
Fourth quarter, I'm fourth quarter, in fact
Fourth quarter, that sack; Fourth in all black
I said and I meant that; advance, you spent that
Corvette so you'll think Bruce Springsteen rid that
Cars just like sneakers, just got me ten
Dubai, I been there -- but fuck that, we in
up and inhale, I live next to Denzel
Alonzo, my condo cost three mil', this shit
and iPad, Air Max, and my gat
Left hand got ten bands; pocket, four stacks
All I need is bad hoes, all these gon' rat
Half these niggas working now, they knocked it down, they're back
All I need is Benzos, squatting on
Stack my money tenfold, this my new ten-four

Rick Ross]
Fuck em, fuck em, I'm screaming em
Fuck em, em, I'm screaming fuck em
all you haters
Watch me fuck all these
I got eight different
And they all condition

I'm screaming fuck em, em, I'm screaming fuck em
Fuck em, fuck em, I'm screaming em
I got different Benzes
This is my
I'm screaming, "Fuck witness"
Cause bitch, I'm big
I'm fuck em

[Verse 2: 2
hit my boost, 'migo hit my boost
What you know about walking in the Gucci store and salute?
Chain cost a coupe, cost a crib
Riding the chopper, like it's my friend
This for niggas only, I still bet with Kobe
Got a sign in my garage say, "Foreign only"
Forces pouring, on I'm touring
See my shit that shit, and yo' shit boring
I'm chain smoking loud like a Newport
Dad around -- my father figure was Too Short
New Porsche deuced up, two cups got in it
Two forks, two pots, I whip it both-handed
My girl is bow-legged, do it like Bo Jackson
Every beat I'm toe-tagging, big as a Volkswagon
Money got me sagging, it doesn't matter
I run circles round niggas' world like Saturn

[Verse 3:
Foamposites, it's like we on that mobbing shit
Riding five deep and I'm as dirty as them
Sixty-two, no tint; missing roof on my new shit
Ironic since my drive increased, my driver see the
Yeah, work, you niggas, pay me though
Smoke that Mark strong, Oakland ain't no basic smoke
to your lady, a.k.a. MMG favorite ho
Tell ass the way to go before I show her where to go
No Canseco, and I'm lanes at one six oh
A nigga fine -- a police siren!
Woop woop -- nah, just Diplo
And you cute, let's get low
On the low, talk that jazz
Jungle fever for the
Horny or white, Anglo-Sax