Luyện nghe bài hát Gold

A-yo shorty, yo my word
Oh, smelling y'all piss now y'all think y'all gold
Yo anybody get caught
Over here, I'm returning 'em, that's my word getting blasted
from 220 to 140, that's mine
Y'all need to step the off
Y'all niggas ain't for real

Yo, the fiends ain't coming fast
There is no cut pure enough
I can't fold, I need gold, I and reload
must be sold to you

I'm deep down in the back streets, in the heart of
to set off something more deep than a misdemeanor
Under the subway, waiting for the to make noise
So I can a nigga and his boys,for what?
He pushed up on the block and made the dope sales
Like the in the Dow Jones stock
I had a connect to cross-sales, to catch mill's
Than ho-bitches got control pills
I'm in the park setting up a deal over blunt
Bum nigga sleeping on the bench, they had him
my convo, the address of my condo
And how I a nigga name to John Doe
And while we set up camp, we got
Put the stake through his heart, I his fucking fangs apart
got smoked on the set like Brandon Lee
Blown out the like Pan Am Flight 103
He got on, his lungs was torn
A just castled with his rook and lost a pawn
A regular on the that played lookout
For playing predator a Glock, he should have took out

No neighbourhood is enough
is no clip that's full enough
I can't fold, I gold, I re-up and reload
must be sold to you

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

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

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

No neighborhood is enough
There is no clips full enough
I can't fold, I gold, I re-up and reload
must be sold to you

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