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

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

I'm down in the back streets, in the heart of Medina
About to set off something more deep a misdemeanor
Under the subway, waiting for the train to make
So I can blast a 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 catch more
Than ho-bitches got birth control
I'm in the setting 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 changed a name to John Doe
And we set up camp, we got vamped
Put the stake through his heart, I ripped his fucking apart
Snake got smoked on the set Brandon Lee
Blown out the frame like Pan Am 103
He got on, his lungs was torn
A kingpin just castled with his rook and a pawn
A regular on the block that lookout
For predator with a Glock, he should have took out

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

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

mandatory that I supply all my troops with mega firearms
Big apes and spread 'em out like on a farm
To get cream, they repaint the scene
Like the last episode on gates, and other
Plant bombs till the from the blast becomes thick
And flows through, all they knew, gun sick
His clicks like high-heeled shoes on parquet floors
Mad sick, on hills and invade wars
Filthy foul, dirt, he's out to hurt
For instance, chop off hands, worth
His idols would down 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 making drops on snowmobiles
The was to expand, catch seven figures, release triggers
And large and bigger than my nigga
Who promised his moms a with mad room
She died and he still put a hundred grand in her
Open wounds, he hid behind doors
And still organized his crime and wars

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

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

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