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 blasted
from 220 to 140, that's mine
Y'all to step the fuck off
niggas ain't crazy for real

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

I'm deep down in the back streets, in the heart of
About to set off something deep than a misdemeanor
Under the subway, waiting for the train to noise
So I can a nigga and his boys,for what?
He pushed up on the block and the dope sales drop
Like the crash in the Dow stock
I had a connect to cross-sales, to more mill's
Than ho-bitches got birth 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 address of my
And how I a nigga name to John Doe
And while we set up camp, we got
Put the stake through his heart, I ripped his fucking apart
Snake got on the set like Brandon Lee
Blown out the frame Pan Am Flight 103
He got swung on, his lungs was
A kingpin just castled with his rook and lost a
A on the block that played lookout
For playing with a Glock, he should have took out

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

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

It's mandatory that I supply all my troops with mega
Big apes and spread 'em out like crops on a
To get cream, they repaint the scene
Like the last on gates, and other niggas
bombs till the smoke from the blast becomes thick
And flows through, all they knew, he's gun
His Glock clicks high-heeled shoes on parquet floors
Mad sick, on hills and invade wars
Filthy foul, shovelling dirt, he's out to
For instance, chop off hands, attack
His idols would 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 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 died and he put a hundred grand in her tomb
wounds, he hid behind closed doors
And still organized his crime and drug

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

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

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