Luyện nghe bài hát Gold

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

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

I'm deep down in the back streets, in the of Medina
About to set off something more deep than a
the subway, waiting for the train to make noise
So I can a nigga and his boys,for what?
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 up a deal over blunt fire
Bum nigga sleeping on the bench, had him wired
my convo, the address of my condo
And how I changed a name 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 like Lee
Blown out the like Pan Am Flight 103
He got on, his lungs was torn
A kingpin just castled with his rook and lost a
A regular on the that played lookout
For playing predator with a Glock, he should have out

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

It's mandatory that I supply all my with mega firearms
Big apes and 'em out like crops on a farm
To get cream, sometimes they repaint the
the last episode on gates, and other niggas
Plant bombs till the smoke from the becomes thick
And flows through, all they knew, gun sick
His Glock clicks like high-heeled shoes on floors
Mad sick, on hills and invade wars
Filthy foul, shovelling dirt, he's out to
For instance, chop off hands, worth
His idols would lock airports and extort
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, triggers
And live large and bigger than my
Who promised his moms a with mad room
She died and he put a hundred grand in her tomb
Open wounds, he hid behind doors
And organized his crime 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 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

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