Luyện nghe bài hát Future

I am the streets, the
I introduce you to Ace Hood, Mills
Big Sean, Wale, Vado, this the
They gettin' money, makin' hit records, they hustlin'

Okay now Khaled told me kill 'em, he just me kill 'em
Hundred for the Beamer, for the dealer
Murder, bet I wrote it, Kudos to the
Chevy sittin' crooked, teeth on Reggie
I'm a beast, see me in your sleep
Nightmare on any street, swear I mark any beat
this to the industry, lyrics like a chopper piece
Flow right through your fitted T, pull this through chemistry
Hottest nigga 'round, saying greatness is my tendency
No thing as sympathy, more money, my remedy
on, heavy D, bitch I'm hot, third degree
Whip I drive? by me, wrists and neck, anti-freeze
Can it be? I'm who you to be'
Last of a dying breed, I'm
pistol shooter nigga like a 7B
Big dog, get it, you still on pedigree
Yeah, fly nigga with stupid swag
Dead keep my money in the body bag
And the G-U-T-T-A, hops in the whip and I gotta get
Fuck them bitches, trying to get laid
Walk in my house you can my maid
And you give a damn you can that Lac
Push Benz on, push that 'Lade, hop to the whip
No top on mine, hear a nigga hate, man them guys
Real nigga shit, don't no lie
plane, my seat recline, top 10 charts, where I reside
Got me a ?

We the best, word to my mama
Ridin' presidential, got me feeling Obama
'Cause all I is change
And my they wanted the same
I the money and never the fame
I turned into they never became
Through all the rain, I my flame
And I burning and its my turn and
nigga my hood confirm it
Now 6 2's on closed curtains
And Maybach, let me take em way back
When I was starving that was
Nigga that cake at?
Murder all your
And I, I, I, I can feel love,
But I feel that
When I got that ? I just so safe
I put it to your mug, you ain't gon'
When that gon' fly
Got a little kick, but it no tired
Niggas murder, but they ain't gon ride
Now we goin' hard like I gonna die
Mill!

Do it! OK
Smoke until I got no
Got her going down, no
I it "speaking tongues"
Do it! Do it!
Now you my language
From where they and talk with they fingers
Man but this ain't no language
out of the ashes
This a fucking classic from when MM got the masses
Trick Trick got passes
I'm from the Motor, Motor
Yeah that motor be the bitch,
call it Motor City
'Cause you're most likely to (fuck it)
thing I got a chauffeur
Going No sir!
I'm the rap game stylist,
'Cause I gave the rap style bitch
But I over shine, ain't no niggas over
Toll rollin by the so I guess we're going overtime.
'Til we're high, dumb high
Westside, I run mine
I'm rolling around in my old school, I feel the alumni
Fucking hoes, no strings
So don't ask me why they out
I'm like to you niggas
I might even stick my out
She wiggled and wobble,
Then on my throttle
Bitch, I might you my baby
And even buy you a
Yo niggas don't ask how the top
you keep em' right beside you
My pockets got on paper
This shit just like a novel boy
100 thousand of ice on me now
But it feel half as good
As grandma saying she's

dedicated, Maybach poetic genius
Some think they to seeing me
Tell em they to Stevie
You poser ain't supposed to be here
We don't ya.
Double MG'er, we put a on niggas' careers
We the best,
No need to stress,
Know a lot of artists
But I got the palette
Multiple colors, my mind's productive than others
Murray the winner, he think he
Mandela
That's though.
One time for the 305,
hydro make me tired, yo
My be so Tai Bo!
My balance be so rope
That's to find Quick Tri-Flow
Get rough me, that Night flow
blow for me, I maestro, shit
That whip sit
Like a slight wrist
shit, you can by shit if you write this shit
Nigga and right this minute, they say I'm buzzing
My driver's out of this world, you bumper cars.
You niggas
You be unemployed
All you is Reggie, I'm in the telly bunch of noise
Who gon' tell me that I ain't going or I ain't
Young Folarin, you see them
That was my

The fell, turning to Ground Zero
Kids like Reggie Jackson
Barnes their hero
As I play Rothstein, like Rob De Niro
Been it but here though
Don't with the weirdos
pimpin' the toast like let's win
Penthouses on West and 4th, and Mac 6
While me in a Maserati bricking his best
When I die, tell them to turn my coffin to Benz rims on it
My man's on, see him, we stomp him out
His mouth, our on it
Always a ounce, a mountain, no tens on it
on it, you have no clout, the Benz on it
What the fiends
Few roaches, you need spray, on tours, eat
Making sure all feet sprayed
Get the pills through, peel through SRT-8 truck on, gray
Drop tops like release dates,