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, that's my they getting blasted
Anything 220 to 140, that's mine
need to step the fuck off
Y'all niggas 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 and reload
Product must be to you

I'm deep down in the back streets, in the of Medina
About to set off something more than a misdemeanor
Under the subway, waiting for the to make noise
So I can blast a and his boys,for what?
He pushed up on the block and made the sales drop
Like the in the Dow Jones stock
I had a to cross-sales, to catch more mill's
Than ho-bitches got control pills
I'm in the park setting up a deal over fire
Bum nigga sleeping on the bench, they had him
Peeped my convo, the 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 fangs 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 rook and a pawn
A regular on the block that lookout
For playing predator with a Glock, he should took out

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

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

It's mandatory I supply all my troops with mega firearms
Big apes and spread 'em out crops on a farm
To get cream, sometimes repaint the scene
Like the last episode on gates, and niggas
Plant bombs till the smoke the blast becomes thick
And flows through, all they knew, he's gun
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 idols would down airports and extort
Some import, catching ten of what the fiends snort
Up in the ski resorts, up in
They move and had the skis making drops on snowmobiles
The plan was to expand, catch seven figures, release
And live and bigger than my nigga
Who promised his moms a with mad room
She died and he put a hundred grand in her tomb
Open wounds, he hid closed doors
And organized his crime and drug wars

Fiends coming fast enough
There is no cut pure enough
I fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload
Product must be to you

No neighborhood is rough
There is no clips full enough
I can't fold, I 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 gold, I re-up and reload
Product must be to you