Luyện nghe bài hát Gold

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

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

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

No neighbourhood is rough
There is no clip that's enough
I can't fold, I need gold, I and reload
Product be sold to you

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

It's mandatory that I supply all my troops mega firearms
Big and spread 'em out like crops on a farm
To get cream, sometimes they the scene
Like the episode on gates, and other niggas
Plant bombs till the smoke from the blast thick
And flows through, all knew, he's gun sick
His Glock clicks like high-heeled shoes on floors
Mad sick, stand on and invade wars
Filthy foul, dirt, he's out to hurt
For instance, off hands, attack worth
His idols would lock down airports and
import, catching ten percent of what the fiends snort
Up in the ski resorts, up in
They move and had the skis making drops on snowmobiles
The plan was to expand, seven figures, release triggers
And large and bigger than my nigga
Who promised his moms a mansion with mad
She died and he still put a grand in her tomb
wounds, he hid behind closed doors
And still organized his and drug wars

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

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

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