Luyện nghe bài hát Gold

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

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

I'm deep down in the streets, in the heart of Medina
About to set off something more deep than a
the subway, waiting for the train to make noise
So I can blast a nigga and his boys,for
He pushed up on the and made the dope sales drop
the crash in the Dow Jones stock
I had a to cross-sales, to catch more mill's
Than ho-bitches got birth control
I'm in the setting up a deal over blunt fire
Bum nigga on the bench, they had him wired
Peeped my convo, the address of my
And how I changed a nigga name to Doe
And we set up camp, we got vamped
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 on, his lungs was torn
A kingpin just castled with his and lost a pawn
A regular on the block that played
For playing predator a Glock, he should have took out

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

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

It's mandatory that I supply all my troops with mega
Big apes and spread 'em out crops on a farm
To get cream, sometimes repaint the scene
Like the last on gates, and other niggas
Plant bombs till the smoke from the blast thick
And through, all they knew, he's gun sick
His Glock like high-heeled shoes on parquet floors
Mad sick, stand on and invade wars
Filthy foul, shovelling dirt, out to hurt
For instance, chop off hands, attack
His would lock down airports and extort
Some import, catching ten percent of what the fiends
Up in the ski resorts, up in
They move and had the skis making drops on snowmobiles
The was to expand, catch 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
Open wounds, he hid behind doors
And still organized his crime and wars

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