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 caught
here, I'm returning 'em, that's my word they getting blasted
Anything from 220 to 140, mine
need to step the fuck off
Y'all niggas ain't for real

Yo, the fiends ain't fast enough
There is no cut pure enough
I can't fold, I need gold, I re-up and
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, waiting for the train to noise
So I can blast a and his boys,for what?
He pushed up on the and made the dope sales drop
Like the crash in the Dow Jones
I had a to cross-sales, to catch more mill's
ho-bitches got birth control pills
I'm in the park setting up a deal over fire
Bum nigga sleeping on the bench, they had him
my convo, the address of my condo
And how I changed a nigga to John Doe
And we set up camp, we got vamped
Put the stake through his heart, I his fucking fangs apart
Snake got smoked on the set like Lee
Blown out the frame Pan Am Flight 103
He got swung on, his was torn
A kingpin just castled his rook and lost a pawn
A regular on the block played lookout
For predator with a Glock, he should have took out

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

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

It's mandatory that I all my troops with mega firearms
Big apes and spread 'em out crops on a farm
To get cream, sometimes repaint the scene
the last episode on gates, and other niggas
Plant bombs till the smoke from the blast becomes
And flows through, all they knew, he's gun
His Glock clicks like shoes on parquet floors
Mad sick, on hills and invade wars
Filthy foul, dirt, he's out to hurt
For instance, chop off hands, worth
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, catch figures, release triggers
And live and bigger than my nigga
Who promised his 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
is no cut that's pure enough
I can't fold, I gold, I re-up and reload
Product must be to you

No is rough enough
There is no clips that's enough
I can't fold, I need gold, I re-up and
Product be sold to you

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