Luyện nghe bài hát Gold

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

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

I'm deep down in the back streets, in the of Medina
About to set off more deep than a misdemeanor
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 sales
Like the crash in the Dow stock
I had a to cross-sales, to catch more mill's
ho-bitches got birth control pills
I'm in the park up a deal over blunt fire
Bum sleeping on the bench, they had him wired
Peeped my convo, the of my condo
And how I changed a name to John Doe
And while we set up camp, we got
Put the stake through his heart, I ripped his fucking apart
got smoked on the set like Brandon Lee
Blown out the frame like Pan Am 103
He got on, his lungs was torn
A kingpin just castled with his and lost a pawn
A regular on the block played lookout
For playing predator a Glock, he should have took out

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

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

It's mandatory that I supply all my troops with firearms
Big apes and spread 'em out like on a farm
To get cream, sometimes repaint the scene
the last 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 clicks like high-heeled on parquet floors
Mad sick, stand on and invade wars
foul, shovelling dirt, he's out to hurt
For instance, chop off hands, worth
His idols would lock airports and extort
Some import, catching ten percent of the fiends snort
Up in the ski resorts, up in
They move keys and had the skis making on snowmobiles
The plan was to expand, catch seven figures, triggers
And live and bigger than my nigga
Who his moms a mansion with mad room
She died and he still put a hundred in her tomb
wounds, he hid behind closed doors
And still his crime and drug wars

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

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

There's no cuffs that's tight
There is no that's fuck with us
I can't fold, I need gold, I and reload
Product be sold to you