Luyện nghe bài hát Gold

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

Yo, the fiends ain't coming enough
There is no cut pure enough
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 more deep than a misdemeanor
Under the subway, waiting for the train to make
So I can blast a nigga and his boys,for
He pushed up on the block and made the dope sales
Like the crash in the Dow Jones
I had a connect to cross-sales, to catch mill's
Than ho-bitches got birth control
I'm in the park setting up a deal blunt fire
Bum nigga sleeping on the bench, they had him
Peeped my convo, the address of my
And how I changed a name to John Doe
And while we set up camp, we got
Put the stake his heart, I ripped his fucking fangs apart
Snake got smoked on the set Brandon Lee
Blown out the frame Pan Am Flight 103
He got swung on, his was torn
A kingpin just castled with his rook and a pawn
A regular on the block played lookout
For playing predator with a Glock, he have took out

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

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

It's mandatory I supply all my troops with mega firearms
Big apes and spread 'em out like crops on a
To get cream, sometimes they the scene
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 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 would lock down airports and extort
Some import, catching ten percent of the fiends snort
Up in the ski resorts, up in
They move keys and had the skis making drops on
The plan was to expand, seven figures, release triggers
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

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

No neighborhood is enough
There is no that's full enough
I fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload
Product must be to you

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