Luyện nghe bài hát Game Face

I don't fuck around I'll you down in the hours of h
All these l.a times motherfucka's the pace
No need to strings things still get done
To have you yellin at the top of yo
So xzibit speak wit a false tounge
Slid off like a
Tryin to build an to pass to my grandson
I never like to business over the phone
So either love for the game or leave it alone
Plus action speak louder than
And pussy faster than birds
So I gotta keep a
On the street you slip, and you might a hot one
Xzibit stay low and kick back like a
I keep it to the end of the line
When a rapper think his style is fuckin with mine, it's divine
'cause my family is than bricks
Anything to keep it movin 'cause it's to hit

(ras kass)
Only right I wit you when you fuckin' wit mine
it movin to the end of the line
And action speak louder words
And pussy faster than birds
Gotta keep a
(xzibit)
Only right I fuck wit you when you fuckin' wit
Keep it to the end of the line
And action speak louder than
And pussy move faster than
keep a gameface

Verse 2: ras
Men must be either or the crutch
To regulate, relegate, delegate power, nigga something
no one and die dumping
Drained ya battery you barely like teddy ruxpin
See that's wassup, nigga I don't a fuck
Say some so nasty, it'll make little kim blush
As if, a 98 bentley tempt me
To lay over this empty
But consequently my conscience permit me
I'm one-third man, one-third jackie chan
One-third sand, shiftin across the of the land
Golden state let my nuts hang like niggas in nooses
you givin groupies all your loochie
I'm known for fucking in suskis
And ? ? ? ? ? ? ?
Loved and feared, severe yet
The full time fighting three million over night thugs
So keep your, hand out your 'cause you can't stop shit
rock shit, studio hustlers
Claimin' they got more than a locksmith
part of the game is this
Bonus round, give me the mic, the
The pussy in that order, the mortar over
Get fucked and copulated
And all you on some you owe me an apology shit
Can suck yo out my dick

3:
(ras kass)
This is for the black niggas, the yak
The part time strippers,slash full student,and fifty buck slippers
I got athletes feet,we run contrete streets
Sporting cleets, nothing sweet
(xzibit)
I'm making get they shit together
Still smokin, still drinkin, maintain clear thinkin
Everyday is the weekend, thru in a lincoln
And style so sick, the car start stinking