Luyện nghe bài hát Gold

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

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

I'm down 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 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 control pills
I'm in the park setting up a deal blunt fire
Bum nigga on the bench, they had him wired
Peeped my convo, the 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 ripped his fangs apart
Snake got smoked on the set Brandon Lee
Blown out the frame Pan Am Flight 103
He got on, his lungs was torn
A kingpin just with his rook and lost a pawn
A regular on the that played lookout
For playing with a Glock, he should have took out

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

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

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

Fiends ain't fast 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 enough
is no clips that's full enough
I can't fold, I need gold, I re-up and
must be sold to you

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