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 'em, that's my word they getting blasted
Anything from 220 to 140, mine
Y'all need to the fuck off
niggas ain't crazy for real

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

I'm deep down in the back streets, in the heart of
About to set off more deep than a misdemeanor
the subway, waiting for the train to make noise
So I can blast a nigga and his boys,for
He up on the block and made the dope sales drop
Like the in the Dow Jones stock
I had a to cross-sales, to catch more mill's
Than ho-bitches got birth pills
I'm in the park setting up a deal blunt fire
Bum sleeping on the bench, they had him wired
Peeped my convo, the of my condo
And how I changed a nigga to John 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 frame Pan Am Flight 103
He got swung on, his lungs was
A kingpin just castled his rook and lost a pawn
A regular on the block that lookout
For playing predator with a Glock, he should have out

No neighbourhood is rough
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 enough
There is no cut pure enough
I can't fold, I need gold, I re-up and
Product be sold 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 last on gates, and other niggas
Plant bombs till the smoke the blast becomes thick
And through, all they knew, he's gun sick
His clicks like high-heeled shoes on parquet floors
Mad sick, on hills and invade wars
Filthy foul, dirt, he's out to hurt
For instance, off hands, attack 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 keys and had the skis making drops on snowmobiles
The plan was to expand, catch seven figures, triggers
And live large and 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 closed
And still his crime and drug wars

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

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

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