Luyện nghe bài hát Guess Who's Back

to me man
This ya boy Young Hova, yo turn the noise up
We'll get right into the proceedings this
are distorting, bring it down a lil' 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
Kanye on the track (whoo!) Chi-Town, what's going on now?
Can I talk to y'all for a minute? Lemme talk to y'all for a
Just gimme a minute of ya time baby - I don't much (whoo!)
talk to these motherfuckers, uhh

Guess who's
You smelling crack in my clothes
Don't me have to relapse on these hoes
it back out to taxing them roads
When I was hugging it, niggas do nothing with it
Straight from the oven with it, came the dirt
I emerged it all without 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 this game for all it's worth
That's right, these niggas can't with me
I'm calling every time, drag my nuts every time
Homey, we make a combination don't we?
Me and the Face Mob, time we face-off
Face it y'all, niggas playing basic ball
I'm on the block like I'm feet tall
Homey, I'm in the with 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'
make me relapse
Back to the with the fo'
Cuz this street is all I know

the womb to the tomb, a hot pot of joy and a spoon
Trying to make me forty thousand and
Motels, star-studded, rock stars and
Plain clothes run in my room
But guess 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
you think I slang fo', to go against the grain (no)
I'm out to grind mo', rapped up in the paper chase
I wanna fuck a fine hoe and candy the 88
Don't got no wholesale, cause 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 get too hot in the kitchen, I hit the streets fool
is an issue, and that's on the fa' shizzle my nizzle
Ya warm, then I come by with the fizzle
And make fa' sho' I get to work mines, for part of the
We go to war and you ain't a dime (ha ha!)
I got, shit to lose, a nigga out here payin his dues
My baby walking gotta get him some
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 line and I'ma ya the blues, whoa!

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

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