Luyện nghe bài hát Gold

A-yo shorty, yo my word
Oh, y'all y'all piss now y'all think y'all gold
Yo anybody get flinging
Over here, I'm returning 'em, that's my they getting blasted
Anything from 220 to 140, that's
need to step the fuck off
Y'all niggas crazy for real

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

I'm deep down in the streets, in the heart of Medina
About to set off something more deep a misdemeanor
the subway, waiting for the train to make noise
So I can blast a and his boys,for what?
He pushed up on the block and made the sales drop
Like the crash in the Dow stock
I had a connect to cross-sales, to catch mill's
Than ho-bitches got control pills
I'm in the park up a deal over blunt fire
Bum nigga on the bench, they had him wired
Peeped my convo, the address of my
And how I changed a nigga name to Doe
And while we set up camp, we got
Put the stake his heart, I ripped his fucking fangs apart
Snake got smoked on the set like Lee
Blown out the like Pan Am Flight 103
He got swung on, his was torn
A kingpin just castled with his rook and a pawn
A on the block that played lookout
For playing predator with a Glock, he should took out

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

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

It's mandatory that I supply all my with mega firearms
Big and spread 'em out like crops on a farm
To get cream, sometimes repaint the scene
Like the episode on gates, and other niggas
Plant bombs till the smoke the blast becomes thick
And flows through, all they knew, he's gun
His Glock like high-heeled shoes on parquet floors
Mad sick, stand on hills and invade
Filthy foul, shovelling dirt, out to hurt
For instance, chop off hands, worth
His idols would lock down and extort
Some import, catching ten percent of what the fiends
Up in the ski resorts, up in
They move keys and had the skis making on snowmobiles
The plan was to expand, seven figures, release triggers
And live large and bigger my nigga
Who his moms a mansion with mad room
She died and he still put a hundred 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 and reload
Product be sold to you

No neighborhood is rough
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 niggas that's with us
I can't fold, I need gold, I re-up and
must be sold to you