Luyện nghe bài hát Gold

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

Yo, the fiends ain't coming fast
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
Under the subway, waiting for the train to make
So I can blast a nigga and his boys,for
He up on the block and made the dope sales drop
the crash in the Dow Jones stock
I had a connect to cross-sales, to catch more
Than ho-bitches got birth pills
I'm in the setting up a deal over blunt fire
Bum sleeping on the bench, they had him wired
my convo, the address of my condo
And how I changed a nigga name to Doe
And while we set up camp, we got
Put the stake through his heart, I ripped his fucking fangs
Snake got on the set like Brandon Lee
out the frame like Pan Am Flight 103
He got on, his lungs was torn
A kingpin castled with his rook and lost a pawn
A regular on the block that played
For predator with a Glock, he should have took out

No is rough enough
There is no that's full enough
I fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload
Product must be to you

Fiends ain't coming fast
There is no cut that's enough
I can't fold, I need gold, I and reload
Product must be to you

mandatory that I supply all my troops with mega firearms
Big and spread 'em out like crops on a farm
To get cream, sometimes repaint the scene
Like the last on gates, and other 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 parquet
Mad sick, stand on hills and invade
Filthy foul, dirt, he's out to hurt
For instance, chop off hands, worth
His would lock down airports and extort
Some import, catching ten of what the fiends snort
Up in the ski resorts, up in
They keys and had the skis making drops on snowmobiles
The plan was to expand, seven figures, release triggers
And live large and bigger my nigga
Who promised his a mansion with mad room
She died and he still put a hundred grand in her
wounds, he hid behind closed doors
And still organized his and drug wars

ain't coming fast enough
There is no cut that's enough
I can't fold, I need gold, I and reload
Product must be to you

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

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