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, that's my word they getting
Anything from 220 to 140, that's
Y'all need to step the off
niggas ain't crazy 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
must be sold to you

I'm down in the back streets, in the heart of Medina
About to set off something deep than a misdemeanor
Under the subway, waiting for the to make noise
So I can blast a nigga and his boys,for
He pushed up on the block and the dope sales drop
the crash in the Dow Jones stock
I had a connect to cross-sales, to catch more
Than ho-bitches got birth pills
I'm in the park setting up a over blunt fire
Bum nigga sleeping on the bench, they had him
my convo, the address of my condo
And how I changed a name 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 like Pan Am Flight 103
He got swung on, his was torn
A just castled with his rook and lost a pawn
A regular on the block that lookout
For playing predator with a Glock, he should took out

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

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

It's that I supply all my troops with mega firearms
Big apes and '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 from the blast becomes thick
And through, all they knew, he's gun sick
His Glock like high-heeled shoes on parquet floors
Mad sick, on hills and invade wars
Filthy foul, shovelling dirt, out to hurt
For instance, chop off hands, attack
His idols would down airports and extort
import, catching ten percent of what 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, release
And live large and than my nigga
Who his moms a mansion with mad room
She died and he put a hundred grand in her tomb
wounds, he hid behind closed doors
And still organized his and drug wars

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

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

There's no cuffs tight enough
There is no niggas that's fuck us
I fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload
Product be sold to you