Luyện nghe bài hát Gold

[Intro: Man]

Aiyyo Shorty, yo my word
Oh, y'all smellin y'all piss now y'all y'all gold
Yo anybody get playin
Over here, I'm returnin em that's my that they be blasted
from two-twenty to one-fourty, that's mine
Y'all niggaz the fuck off
niggaz ain't crazy for real

[Chorus:

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

[Verse One:

I'm down in the back streets - in the heart of Medina
About to set off something deep than a misdemeanor
the subway, waiting for the train to make noise
So I can blast a nigga and his - for what?
He pushed up on the block and made the sales drop
Like the crashin of Dow stock
I had to connect to cross seals, to catch mil's
ho-bitches got birth control pills
I'm in the park, settin up a deal blunt fire
Bum niggaz sleepin on the bench, they had em
Peeped my convo, the address of my
And how I a nigga name to John Doe
And we set up camp, we got Vamp
Put the stake his heart, I ripped his fucking fangs apart
Snake got on the set like Brandon Lee
Blown out the frame, like Pan Am 103
He got on, his lungs was torn, the
kingpin just castled with his rook and lost a
A regular on the block, and look-out
For playing predator with a glock, he should took out

No neighborhood is enough
There is no that's full enough
I can't fold, I need gold, I and reload
Product must be to YOU

The fiends ain't fast enough
There is no cut pure enough
I can't fold, I gold, I re-up and reload,
Product must be to YOU

[Verse Two:

mandatory that
I all my troops with mega firearms
Big apes, and spread em out crops on a farm
to get CREAM, sometimes they the scene
Like the last episode on gates and other
plant bombs til the from the blast becomes thick
and flows all they knew, he's gun sick
His glock clicks, high-heeled shoes on parquay floors
Mad sick, on hills and invade wars
Filthy foul, shoveling dirt, he's out to
For instance, off hands, attack worth
His idols lock down airports and next extort
some import, catchin ten percent of what the fiends
Up in the ski resorts, up in
They move keys and had skis drops on snowmobiles
The plan was to expand, catch seven figures, release
And live large and than my nigga
Who promised his moms a mansion with mad
She died, and he still put a hundred in her tomb
Open wounds, he hid closed doors
And still crime and drug wars

The fiends ain't coming fast
There is no cut that's enough
I can't fold, I need gold, I and reload
Product must be to YOU

No is rough enough
is no clips that's full enough
I can't fold, I need gold, I and reload
Product must be to YOU

The peers that come is enough
There is no niggaz fucking up
I can't fold, I gold, I re-up and reload
Product be sold... to YOU