Luyện nghe bài hát Gold

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

Yo, the fiends ain't coming fast
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 down in the back streets, in the of Medina
About to set off something deep than a misdemeanor
Under the subway, for the train to make noise
So I can blast a nigga and his boys,for
He pushed up on the block and made the dope drop
the crash in the Dow Jones stock
I had a connect to cross-sales, to more mill's
ho-bitches got birth control pills
I'm in the park setting up a deal over blunt
Bum sleeping on the bench, they had him wired
my convo, the address of my condo
And how I a nigga name to John Doe
And we set up camp, we got vamped
Put the stake through his heart, I ripped his fucking apart
got smoked on the set like 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 that played lookout
For playing predator a Glock, he should have took out

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

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

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

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

No neighborhood is rough
There is no clips that's full
I can't fold, I need gold, I and reload
must be sold to you

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