Luyện nghe bài hát Guess Who's Back

to me man
This ya boy Young Hova, yo turn the noise up
We'll get into the proceedings this evening
Headphones are distorting, it down a lil' bit
Okay, now we working it
The boy Face on the line, Face - Mob!
Welcome to New York City, ya boy Young Hov' chea
Kanye West on the track (whoo!) Chi-Town, what's on now?
Can I talk to y'all for a minute? talk to y'all for a minute
Just gimme a minute of ya time baby - I don't want (whoo!)
Lemme talk to motherfuckers, uhh

Guess bizack?
You still smelling in my clothes
Don't me have to relapse on these hoes
Take it back out to taxing them
When I was hugging it, niggas do nothing with it
from the oven with it, came from the dirt
I emerged from it all without a on my shirt
You can my old earth, for the shit she instilled in me
Still with me, plus work
Shit she made me milk game for all it's worth
That's right, these niggas can't fuck me
I'm guts every time, drag my nuts every time
Homey, we a great combination don't we?
Me and the Face Mob, every we face-off
Face it y'all, y'all playing basic ball
I'm on the block like I'm eight feet
Homey, I'm in the drop the AC on
That's why the, streets me dawg, I'm so cool!

Guess who's
on the block with the old Face Mob
Mack and Hov'
make me relapse
Back to the block the fo'
Cuz street shit is all I know

From the to the tomb, a hot pot of joy and a spoon
Trying to make me thousand and move
Motels, star-studded, rock stars and
Plain wanna run in my room
But nigga who's bizack? It's ya boy Face Mob
Started with an eightball, gotta get this cake
niggas a break, nah, you know how the game go
Fuck you I slang fo', to go against the grain (no)
I'm out here to grind mo', rapped up in the chase
I wanna a fine hoe and candy paint the 88
Don't got no wholesale, cause ain't how I wanna run it
Here take these five stones and bring a nigga a hundred
see my feet dude, you do shit a fiend do
The fire get too hot in the kitchen, I hit the fool
Money is an issue, and that's on the fa' my nizzle
Ya block warm, then I by with the fizzle
And make fa' sho' I get to work mines, for of the time
We go to war and you making a dime (ha ha!)
Cause I got, shit to lose, a out here payin his dues
My baby gotta get him some shoes
It's a new game doing, lemme give ya the
Get line and I'ma give ya the blues
It's a new game doing, lemme give ya the
Get outta line and I'ma ya the blues, whoa!

who's bizack?
The boy B. Mizack, a.k.a. Mr.
Turn a whole one from a a brick, look I mastered this
You can smell it once the plastic
A hot make ya swell up if ya gasket clicked
You can make ya swell up, ya don't have to pitch
Play them corners like a safety, watch the traffic
never pump fake, and you'll get past the blitz
And ya whole hood on flip, like on box-spring
Mack and shit, low old box of things
Strictly glassy shit, I hug the block like a quart of
Shit I used to hug a corner like a old deuce and a
Till like in the morning, with the old heads
Slanging loose quarters, this Philly cat back (had it)
Still fucking with them crack
Still busting with that

Guess bizack?
Back on the with the old Face Mob
Mack Mittens and
Don't me relapse
to the block with the fo'
Cuz this shit is all I know