Luyện nghe bài hát Go (Gas)

Fuckin' put on a head, pair of headphones and shit, uh

Just took ten shots and I ain't out
Spent a hundred grand and I cash out
If you OG, bring the grass out
These niggas up, bring the gas out
Talkin' 'bout some shit that you know you
I my fuckin' way with this game, no remote control
Drinking on gin 'cause I like alcohol
How the fuck you supposed to win, you don't how to ball
Turnt up but smoking
Tryna drive but my eyes barely
See the cars, see the watch, see I moved up
In my condo smoking out True Blood
Tryna Taco to the strip club
Tryna take Tyler to the bruh (I'm right here guys!)
Tryna take to the weed spot
True so I need pot

Go, I'm so fuckin'
Pockets and the and all the bitches
'em
Go, and I'm floatin'
I hope lungs is open
All the bitches, 'em, go
(Now I been the world before
But I never thought it'd be way
And I smoked up all weed before
But I never thought it'd feel way)
And all the be like, "Yeah"

Celebration shots got me really
Kind of famous, enough to laugh like I really it
Drunk enough to stir some controversy, bitch let's fucking it
I feel amazing, making off my fucking cadence
Suck a dick hater I selfie with the Eifel Tower
star general, the Odd Future I'm Eisenhower
Said I couldn't make it, I you niggas to fight the power
Igniting sour, watching in my finest hour
A clearer mix of acid jazz and blue
Niggas still stuck in the past, new scabs
Me and Wiz matching bottles nigga, two tabs
out with six models, my nigga order two cabs
We ain't worried 'bout rivals, them too trash
Fuck what niggas think, I'm the one in the new class
And I don't give a fuck what niggas fuckin' with
OFWG run with the team or a dick

Go, I'm so fuckin'
Pockets and the and all the bitches
'em
Go, faded and I'm
I hope your lungs is
All the bitches, 'em, go
(Now I around the world before
But I never thought be this way
And I smoked up all this weed
But I never thought feel this way)
And all the be like, "Yeah"

Guitars sound like some Bill shit, watch it
that church tambourine shit
My used to play that

Golf

(Turn up)
I got old money, I got new
Put 'em together, I got money
Bank teller my phone, she tell me I'm putting on
Twenty years of success, let's toast to the
Sip on Ace then I pour out the rest
bitches, get ends
Drink gin, fuck their
Juicy J hoes in a white on white Benz
I stay sipping
dream I'm rolling up
Looking for a bitch bank statements like Oprah
These black diamonds racist, Louis V no
My on call coming straight up out the basement
All I know is money, it don't look you
One shot the chopper make you look like two

Go (Go, go, go, go, go, go, go)