Luyện nghe bài hát Guess Who's Back

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

Guess bizack?
You still crack in my clothes
Don't me have to relapse on these hoes
Take it back out to them roads
When I was hugging it, niggas couldn't do with it
Straight from the oven with it, from the dirt
I emerged from it all a stain on my shirt
You can blame my old earth, for the she instilled in me
Still me, pain plus work
Shit she made me milk this game for all it's
That's right, these niggas fuck with me
I'm calling guts every time, my nuts every time
Homey, we a great combination don't we?
Me and the Mob, every time we face-off
Face it y'all, y'all niggas playing basic
I'm on the block I'm eight feet tall
Homey, I'm in the with the AC on
That's why the, streets me dawg, I'm so cool!

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

From the womb to the tomb, a hot pot of joy and a
Trying to make me thousand and move
Motels, star-studded, rock and goons
clothes wanna run in my room
But nigga guess who's bizack? ya boy Face Mob
Started with an eightball, gotta get this cake
Give niggas a break, nah, you how the game go
Fuck you I slang fo', to go against 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
got no wholesale, cause that ain't how I wanna run it
Here take these five and bring a nigga back a hundred
Gotta see my feet dude, you do shit a 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 come by the fizzle
And make fa' sho' I get to work mines, for part of the
We go to war and you ain't making a (ha ha!)
Cause I got, shit to lose, a nigga out here payin his
My baby gotta get him some shoes
It's a new game doing, give ya the rules
Get outta line and give ya the blues
a new game doing, lemme give ya the rules
Get outta and I'ma give ya the blues, whoa!

Guess who's
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 rips
A hot make ya swell up if ya gasket clicked
You can ya chips swell up, ya don't have to pitch
them corners like a safety, watch the traffic switch
Young'n never fake, and you'll get past the blitz
And keep ya whole hood on flip, like on
Pissy Mack and shit, low old box of
Strictly shit, I hug the block like a quart of water
Shit I to hug a corner like a old deuce and a quarter
Till like deuce in the morning, the old heads
Slanging loose quarters, this cat back gatted (had it)
Still fucking them crack addicts
Still busting that black-matic

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