Luyện nghe bài hát Gold

[Intro: Method

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

[Chorus:

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

[Verse One:

I'm deep down in the back streets - in the of Medina
About to set off something more deep than a
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 crashin of Dow Jones
I had to connect to cross seals, to catch more
Than ho-bitches got control pills
I'm in the park, settin up a deal over fire
Bum niggaz sleepin on the bench, they had em
my convo, the address of my condo
And how I changed a nigga name to Doe
And we set up camp, we got Vamp
Put the stake through his heart, I his fucking fangs apart
Snake got on the set like Brandon Lee
Blown out the frame, Pan Am flight 103
He got swung on, his was torn, the
kingpin just castled with his and lost a pawn
A regular on the block, and played
For playing predator with a glock, he have took out

No is rough enough
There is no that's full enough
I can't fold, I gold, I re-up and reload
must be sold to YOU

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

Two: Genius]

It's that
I supply all my troops with mega
Big apes, and spread em out like on a farm
to get CREAM, they repaint 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, stand on and invade wars
foul, shoveling dirt, he's out to hurt
For instance, chop off hands, worth
His idols would lock down airports and next
some import, catchin ten percent of what the snort
Up in the ski resorts, up in
They keys and had skis making drops on snowmobiles
The was to expand, catch seven figures, release triggers
And live and bigger than my nigga
Who promised his a mansion with mad rooms
She died, and he put a hundred grand in her tomb
Open wounds, he hid closed doors
And still organized crime and wars

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

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

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