Luyện nghe bài hát Game Face

I don't around I'll break you down in the hours of h
All these l.a motherfucka's keepin the pace
No need to pull strings things get done
To have you at the top of yo lungs
So xzibit speak wit a false tounge
Slid off a handgun
Tryin to build an empire to pass to my
I never like to talk over the phone
So either have for the game or leave it alone
Plus speak louder than words
And pussy move faster than
So I gotta a gameface
On the street you slip, and you catch 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 saggin style is with mine, it's divine
my family is harder than bricks
Anything to keep it movin 'cause it's to hit

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

Verse 2: ras
Men must be tramp or the crutch
To regulate, relegate, power, nigga touch something
Trust no one and die
Drained ya battery you barely like teddy ruxpin
See that's wassup, I don't give a fuck
Say some so nasty, it'll make little kim blush
As if, a 98 bentley tempt me
To lay bullshit over empty
But consequently my wouldn't permit me
I'm one-third man, one-third jackie chan
One-third sand, shiftin across the surface of the
Golden state warrior let my nuts hang niggas in nooses
While you givin all your loochie
I'm known for fucking hoochies in
And ? ? ? ? ? ? ?
Loved and feared, severe yet
The full titan fighting three million over night thugs
So keep your, out your rectum 'cause you can't stop shit
Don't shit, studio hustlers
Claimin' they got more keys a locksmith
part of the game is this
Bonus round, me the mic, the money
The pussy in that order, the mortar populated
Get and orally copulated
And all you chumps on you owe me an apology shit
Can yo apology 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 these streets
Sporting cleets, nothing sweet
(xzibit)
I'm making rappers get they together
Still smokin, drinkin, still maintain clear thinkin
is the weekend, mashin thru in a lincoln
And style so sick, the whole car start