Luyện nghe bài hát Guess Who's Back

to me man
This ya boy Young Hova, yo the motherfucking noise up
We'll get right into the proceedings this
Headphones are distorting, bring it down a bit
Okay, now we with it
The boy on the bass line, Face - Mob!
Welcome to New City, it's ya boy Young 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
gimme a minute of ya time baby - I don't want much (whoo!)
Lemme to these motherfuckers, uhh

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

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

From the womb to the tomb, a hot pot of joy and a
Trying to make me thousand and move
Motels, star-studded, rock stars and
clothes wanna run in my room
But nigga who's bizack? It's ya boy Face Mob
Started with an eightball, gotta get this dawg
Give 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 paper
I wanna a fine hoe and candy paint the 88
Don't got no wholesale, 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 a fiend do
The fire get too hot in the kitchen, I hit the streets
is an issue, and that's on the fa' shizzle my nizzle
Ya block warm, then I come by with the
And make fa' sho' I get to mines, for part of the time
We go to war and you ain't making a (ha ha!)
Cause I got, shit to lose, a nigga out here his dues
My baby walking gotta get him shoes
It's a new game doing, give ya the rules
Get outta line and I'ma ya the blues
It's a new game doing, give ya the rules
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 the plastic rips
A hot plate'll make ya swell up if ya clicked
You can ya chips swell up, ya don't have to pitch
Play them corners a safety, watch the traffic switch
never pump fake, and you'll get past the blitz
And keep ya hood on flip, like on box-spring
Pissy Mack and shit, low old box of
Strictly glassy shit, I hug the block a quart of water
Shit I used to hug a like a old deuce and a quarter
Till like deuce in the morning, the old heads
Slanging loose quarters, Philly cat back gatted (had it)
fucking with them crack addicts
Still with that black-matic

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