Luyện nghe bài hát Gold

A-yo shorty, yo my word
Oh, y'all smelling y'all piss now y'all y'all gold
Yo get caught flinging
here, I'm returning 'em, that's my word they getting blasted
Anything from 220 to 140, that's
Y'all to step the fuck off
Y'all niggas ain't crazy for

Yo, the fiends coming fast enough
There is no cut that's pure
I can't fold, I gold, I re-up and reload
must be sold to you

I'm deep down in the back streets, in the heart of
About to set off something deep than a misdemeanor
the subway, waiting for the train to make noise
So I can blast a nigga and his boys,for
He up on the block and made the dope sales drop
Like the crash in the Dow stock
I had a connect to cross-sales, to more mill's
ho-bitches got birth control pills
I'm in the park setting up a deal over fire
Bum nigga sleeping on the bench, they had him
Peeped my convo, the address of my
And how I a nigga name to John Doe
And we set up camp, we got vamped
Put the stake through his heart, I ripped his fucking apart
Snake got on the set like Brandon Lee
Blown out the frame Pan Am Flight 103
He got swung on, his was torn
A kingpin just castled his rook and lost a pawn
A on the block that played lookout
For playing predator a Glock, he should have took out

No neighbourhood is enough
There is no that's full enough
I can't fold, I need gold, I and reload
Product be sold to you

Fiends ain't fast enough
There is no cut pure enough
I fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload
Product must be to you

mandatory that I supply all my troops with mega firearms
Big apes and spread 'em out crops on a farm
To get cream, sometimes they repaint the
Like the last episode on gates, and niggas
Plant bombs till the smoke from the blast becomes
And flows through, all they knew, he's gun
His Glock clicks like high-heeled shoes on parquet
Mad sick, stand on and invade wars
foul, shovelling dirt, he's out to hurt
For instance, chop off hands, attack
His would lock down airports and extort
Some import, catching ten of what the fiends snort
Up in the ski resorts, up in
They move keys and had the making drops on snowmobiles
The plan was to expand, catch seven figures, triggers
And live large and bigger my nigga
Who promised his moms a with mad room
She died and he still put a grand in her tomb
Open wounds, he hid behind doors
And still organized his crime and wars

Fiends ain't fast enough
There is no cut that's pure
I can't fold, I need gold, I re-up and
Product be sold to you

No neighborhood is enough
There is no clips that's enough
I fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload
must be sold to you

There's no that's tight enough
There is no niggas that's fuck us
I can't fold, I gold, I re-up and reload
Product must be to you