Luyện nghe bài hát Gold

A-yo shorty, yo my word
Oh, smelling y'all piss now y'all think 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
need to step the fuck off
Y'all niggas ain't crazy for

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

I'm deep down in the back streets, in the of Medina
About to set off more deep than a misdemeanor
Under the subway, waiting for the to make noise
So I can blast a nigga and his boys,for
He pushed up on the block and made the dope sales
Like the crash in the Dow stock
I had a to cross-sales, to catch more mill's
Than ho-bitches got birth control
I'm in the park up a deal over blunt fire
Bum nigga on the bench, they had him wired
Peeped my convo, the 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
got smoked on the set like Brandon Lee
Blown out the frame like Pan Am 103
He got swung on, his was torn
A kingpin just castled 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
is no clip that's full enough
I can't fold, I need gold, I re-up and
must be sold to you

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

It's mandatory that I supply all my troops with firearms
Big apes and spread 'em out like on a farm
To get cream, sometimes they the scene
Like the episode on gates, and other niggas
Plant bombs till the smoke the blast becomes thick
And through, all they knew, he's gun sick
His Glock clicks like high-heeled shoes on floors
Mad sick, stand on hills and invade
foul, shovelling dirt, he's out to hurt
For instance, chop off hands, worth
His idols would lock down and extort
import, catching ten percent of what 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 large and bigger than my nigga
Who promised his moms a with mad room
She died and he still put a grand in her tomb
wounds, he hid behind closed doors
And still organized his crime and wars

Fiends coming 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 is rough enough
There is no clips that's full
I fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload
Product be sold to you

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