Luyện nghe bài hát Gold Rush

Josey Wales was known for robbin' trains and
Layin' down for diamond rings and chains
It remains the same in the year you in, see
'Cos if I pull out some heat, nigga, go kick in

And that's just the rules set by the fool from the ol'
When it's to duel, you get two men
Two heaters, one street, one
And when it strike twelve, one of y'all drop

If quick on the draw you're gon' see the morgue
But if too slow, I catch you on the downlow
Oh no, you mean The Kid, real
I no John Wayne, these niggas gang bang

The Horsemen, that's the click I'm with
You mean the little bitty with the itchy trigger fingers
Yeah, we're on a to Kansas, slippin' through Texas
We stopped at Bonanza to get us some hot cakes, and eggs
we slip in the whorehouse to get us some leg
Hop back on the horses, enforcers of

The niggas in black, the Four Horsemen
Searchin' for location on the map
The gold rush, baby, got to it
It feels just like it's 1865 and a trigger is how I ride

On and on and on it's more strange, time to heat, range
with the heat on their hip
Young James come to test your aim
I you at the Wild Horny Corral, I hearda ya name

Tha forcify nigga, you never lie
Besides I'm in the mood, so at noon we ride
From coast to coast, niggas mash on every coach
My disciples rifles lethal in whole posts
The off-the-rocker roller coaster, on a six-shooter
With DPG on every poster

Let me about which bank to gank
Which fellow to shoot and which to shank
I want all the shit you got in stacks, attached to this in the corner
So I snatched the in the back

The Dogg in me feels for the
But the hogg in me makes me bust
Back to the down board
we drawn down more
To survive all the round wards

Battle up or saddle up and the scene
Or get'cha shaken, clean the slugs in ya spleen
I can't help it, I'm heartless, ya can't it
my six-shooters on my hips and dusty jacket
Like that, cock back, quick to my strap
Just to put the on the map

Born is Doggystyle, individual, got the hots
I got the six shots for all the and plots
I got lots of cash stashed in bags
workers for all the Russian blabbermouths and gags

I got stacks, so my excel
Hop in the coach my twelve Clydesdales and bells
I'm on the move, smooth, to my horse
A 30-30 on my to shoot a nigga of course

It ain't no young Josey, box all the nosey
Headed to the with my platoon where all the hos be
Left a dusty trail, bailed in
spurs on the Gators, set back the clientele
Oh well, for the recop, I my bet
Divide between my homies and ride the

Two sacks of money from the train
They ain't counted it up, just mounted it up
Rode west toward the coaster, six-shooters in the
Pass through a town whose walls hold my poster

The closer I get to death which is second
Makes me sweat, so I gotta have I can get
Heard word about the gold rush and West
On my white horsey with straps in my napsack

Giddy up, the next I rode through
I had to threaten to blow city up
Undebts Chief Black, caught five miles west
Sell us some and hail us some weed

He offered me a toke, he didn't a 20
He had they beads-pipe smoke, I choked
Break him for the get, right, I'm off into the
Tryin' to reach my fast, it's these two bags of cash

cocked, I ain't makin' no more stops
Till I hit the spot, I it twelve on the dot
I slid off my boots, my loot
Five minutes after the strike of
I counted 200 Gs, I cocked my strap and slept