Luyện nghe bài hát Gold

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

Yo, the ain't coming fast enough
There is no cut that's enough
I fold, I need gold, I re-up 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 deep than a
the subway, waiting for the train to make noise
So I can a nigga and his boys,for what?
He pushed up on the and made the dope sales drop
Like the in the Dow Jones stock
I had a connect to cross-sales, to more mill's
Than ho-bitches got control pills
I'm in the park setting up a deal over 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 while we set up camp, we got
Put the through his heart, I ripped his fucking 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 castled with his rook and lost a pawn
A regular on the block that played
For playing predator with a Glock, he should have out

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

Fiends ain't coming fast
There is no cut pure 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 episode on gates, and other niggas
Plant bombs till the smoke from the blast becomes
And flows through, all they knew, he's gun
His Glock clicks like high-heeled shoes on floors
Mad sick, stand on hills and wars
Filthy foul, shovelling dirt, out to hurt
For instance, off hands, attack 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 skis making drops on
The plan was to expand, catch seven figures, triggers
And live and bigger than my nigga
Who promised his moms a mansion mad room
She died and he put a hundred grand in her tomb
Open wounds, he hid behind doors
And still organized his and drug wars

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

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

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