Luyện nghe bài hát Gold

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

Yo, the fiends coming fast enough
There is no cut that's pure
I fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload
must be sold to you

I'm deep in the back streets, in the heart of Medina
About to set off something more than a misdemeanor
Under the subway, waiting for the train to noise
So I can blast a nigga and his boys,for
He pushed up on the block and made the dope sales
the crash in the Dow Jones stock
I had a connect to cross-sales, to catch more
Than ho-bitches got birth control
I'm in the setting up a deal over blunt fire
Bum nigga sleeping on the bench, had him wired
Peeped my convo, the of my condo
And how I changed a name to John Doe
And while we set up camp, we got
Put the stake through his heart, I ripped his fucking 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 kingpin just castled with his rook and lost a
A on the block that played lookout
For playing predator a Glock, he should have took out

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

Fiends ain't coming fast
is no cut that's pure enough
I can't fold, I need gold, I and reload
must be sold 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, they repaint the scene
the last episode on gates, and other niggas
Plant bombs till the smoke from the blast becomes
And through, all they knew, he's gun sick
His Glock clicks like high-heeled on parquet floors
Mad sick, stand on hills and wars
foul, shovelling dirt, he's out to hurt
For instance, chop off hands, attack
His idols would lock down and extort
Some import, ten percent of what the fiends snort
Up in the ski resorts, up in
They move keys and had the skis drops on snowmobiles
The plan was to expand, seven figures, release triggers
And live large and than my nigga
Who promised his a mansion with mad room
She and he still put a hundred grand in her tomb
Open wounds, he hid behind doors
And still organized his and drug wars

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

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

There's no cuffs that's tight
There is no that's fuck with us
I can't fold, I need gold, I and reload
must be sold to you