Luyện nghe bài hát Gold

[Intro: Method

Aiyyo Shorty, yo my word
Oh, y'all smellin piss now y'all think y'all gold
Yo get caught playin
Over here, I'm returnin em my word that they be blasted
Anything from two-twenty to one-fourty, mine
Y'all step the fuck off
Y'all niggaz crazy for real

[Chorus:

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

[Verse One:

I'm deep down in the streets - in the heart of Medina
About to set off something more deep than a
Under the subway, for the train to make noise
So I can blast a and his boys - for what?
He pushed up on the block and made the dope drop
Like the crashin of Dow stock
I had to connect to seals, to catch more mil's
Than got birth control pills
I'm in the park, settin up a deal over fire
Bum sleepin on the bench, they had em wired
Peeped my convo, the 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 ripped his fangs apart
Snake got smoked on the set Brandon Lee
Blown out the frame, like Pan Am 103
He got swung on, his was torn, the
kingpin just castled with his rook and a pawn
A regular on the block, and played
For playing predator with a glock, he have took out

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

The fiends ain't coming fast
There is no cut that's pure
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 mega firearms
Big apes, and em out like crops on a farm
to get CREAM, they repaint the scene
Like the last episode on gates and niggaz
plant bombs til the smoke the blast becomes thick
and through all they knew, he's gun sick
His clicks, like high-heeled shoes on parquay floors
Mad sick, stand on hills and invade
foul, shoveling dirt, he's out to hurt
For instance, chop off hands, worth
His idols lock down airports and next extort
some import, ten percent of what the fiends snort
Up in the ski resorts, up in
They move keys and had skis making drops on
The was to expand, catch seven figures, release triggers
And live and bigger than my nigga
Who his moms a mansion with mad rooms
She died, and he put a hundred grand in her tomb
wounds, he hid behind closed doors
And organized crime and drug wars

The fiends ain't fast enough
is no cut that's full enough
I can't fold, I gold, I re-up and reload
must be sold to YOU

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

The peers that come is enough
is no niggaz that's fucking up
I fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload
must be sold... to YOU