Luyện nghe bài hát Guess Who's Back

to me man
This ya boy Hova, yo turn the motherfucking noise up
We'll get right into the this evening
Headphones are distorting, bring it down a bit
Okay, now we with it
The boy Face on the bass line, - Mob!
Welcome to New York City, it's ya boy Hov' chea
West on the track (whoo!) Chi-Town, what's going 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 want much (whoo!)
Lemme to these motherfuckers, uhh

Guess bizack?
You still smelling crack in my
Don't make me to relapse on these hoes
Take it back out to taxing them
When I was it, niggas couldn't do nothing with it
Straight from the oven with it, came from the
I from it all without a stain on my shirt
You can blame my old earth, for the shit she in me
Still with me, pain work
Shit she me milk this game for all it's worth
That's right, these niggas fuck with me
I'm calling guts every time, drag my every time
Homey, we make a great combination we?
Me and the Mob, every time we face-off
Face it y'all, y'all niggas basic ball
I'm on the block I'm eight feet tall
Homey, I'm in the drop the AC on
why the, streets embrace me dawg, I'm so cool!

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

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

Guess bizack?
The boy B. Mizack, a.k.a. Mr.
Turn a whole one from a half a brick, I mastered this
You can smell it once the rips
A hot plate'll make ya swell up if ya clicked
You can make ya chips 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 keep ya whole hood on flip, on box-spring
Pissy and shit, low old box of things
Strictly glassy shit, I hug the like a quart of water
I used to hug a corner like a old deuce and a quarter
Till like deuce in the morning, with the old
Slanging loose quarters, this cat back gatted (had it)
fucking with them crack addicts
Still busting with that

who's bizack?
Back on the block the old Face Mob
Mittens and Hov'
Don't make me
Back to the with the fo'
Cuz street shit is all I know