Luyện nghe bài hát Gold

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

Yo, the fiends ain't 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 down in the back streets, in the heart of Medina
About to set off something more deep a misdemeanor
Under the subway, for the train to make noise
So I can a nigga and his boys,for what?
He up on the block and made the dope sales drop
Like the crash in the Dow Jones
I had a to cross-sales, to catch more mill's
Than got birth control pills
I'm in the park setting up a deal over fire
Bum nigga sleeping on the bench, 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 fangs apart
got smoked 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 with his rook and lost a
A regular on the that played lookout
For playing with a Glock, he should have took out

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

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

It's mandatory that I supply all my troops with mega
Big apes and spread 'em out like on a farm
To get cream, sometimes they the scene
Like the last on gates, and other niggas
Plant bombs till the smoke from the blast becomes
And flows through, all they knew, gun sick
His Glock like high-heeled shoes on parquet floors
Mad sick, stand on hills and wars
Filthy foul, shovelling dirt, out to hurt
For instance, off hands, attack worth
His idols would lock down airports and
Some import, catching ten percent of the fiends snort
Up in the ski resorts, up in
They keys and had the skis making drops on snowmobiles
The was to expand, catch 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 in her tomb
wounds, he hid behind closed doors
And organized his crime and drug wars

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

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

There's no cuffs that's enough
There is no niggas that's fuck us
I can't fold, I need gold, I and reload
Product be sold to you