Luyện nghe bài hát Gold

[Intro: Method

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

Genius]

Yo, the fiends coming fast enough
There is no cut that's pure
I fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload
Product must be to YOU

One: Genius]

I'm down in the back streets - in the heart of Medina
About to set off something more deep than a
Under the subway, waiting for the train to make
So I can blast a and his boys - for what?
He pushed up on the block and made the dope sales
Like the crashin of Dow Jones
I had to connect to cross seals, to catch mil's
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
Peeped my convo, the address of my
And how I a nigga name to John Doe
And while we set up camp, we got
Put the stake through his heart, I his fucking fangs apart
got smoked on the set like Brandon Lee
Blown out the frame, like Pan Am 103
He got swung on, his was torn, the
kingpin castled with his rook and lost a pawn
A on the block, and played look-out
For playing predator with a glock, he should have out

No neighborhood is rough
There is no clip full enough
I fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload
Product be sold to YOU

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

[Verse Genius]

It's mandatory
I supply all my troops with firearms
Big apes, and spread em out like on a farm
to get CREAM, sometimes repaint the scene
Like the last episode on and other niggaz
plant bombs til the smoke the blast becomes thick
and through all they knew, he's gun sick
His glock clicks, like high-heeled shoes on parquay
Mad sick, stand on and invade wars
Filthy foul, shoveling dirt, he's out to
For instance, off hands, attack worth
His idols would lock down airports and next
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 figures, release triggers
And live large and bigger than my
Who promised his moms a with mad rooms
She died, and he put a hundred grand in her tomb
Open wounds, he hid behind closed
And still organized and drug wars

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

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