Luyện nghe bài hát Gold

A-yo shorty, yo that's my
Oh, y'all smelling y'all piss now y'all think gold
Yo anybody get caught
Over here, I'm returning 'em, that's my word getting blasted
Anything from 220 to 140, that's
need to step the fuck off
Y'all niggas crazy for real

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

I'm deep in the back streets, in the heart of Medina
to set off something more 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
Like the crash in the Dow Jones
I had a connect to cross-sales, to 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 name to 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 Brandon Lee
Blown out the like Pan Am Flight 103
He got on, his lungs was torn
A kingpin just castled with his and lost a pawn
A regular on the block that played
For predator with a Glock, he should have took out

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

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

Fiends ain't 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

No neighborhood is enough
There is no clips that's 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 can't fold, I gold, I re-up and reload
Product be sold to you