Luyện nghe bài hát Here We Are/Go Killem

[Daz](Kurupt)
Psss.. yeah..
It's about y'all bitch ass niggaz (fuck this.. shit)
Y'knahmsayin? Tired of ya bitch ass niggaz
(Yeah nigga, Daz and Kurupt) 1-8-7 killin, all day
I'm out!

Nigga cause you better come strapped wit tec's
to get or get capped, the back slap, a late flap
Swingle's the cheater when them thangs in screechin in the dark
I want my snija when you the sparks
Dustin off bread, for startin Rucker's
touch us, me and my homey reply wit fuckers
Me and my dogg's blast attention leavin y'all in the action
Bitch ass sorry ass bastards, heartless, senseless
I was born to devauer, cut your
For all my real behind bars
Scared for life, from the blade of a
The kid strikes at for takin ya life
tec's, I earn repect; you "Chin Check" the rest
or die when your ass death
I take precaution, stalkin these streets, and ballin
Keep your hand on yo' heat, cause we playin for
Real niggaz do real thangs in this gang-bang life we
You hang, nigga die and bleed
Murder won't stop 'til buster and sucker drop
Fuck the cops, stop me from the block
Rocks pass the glocks in the weed
Stop playa hatin, whodie got and clock yo' own
Tryna perfect the shine, the fifty-eight die
Blind ya when we comin from

male singer + female singer]
we are (here we are)
and there they are (there are)
Gonna get gone, aiyya, (get gone, get gone) {*gun shot*}
Gonna get gone, aiyya, (get gone, get gone) {*gun shot*}

(?)'s a herb, call the choreographer the
Camaro's, I show no and no sorrow
Fuedin, 'em down, for every radio, seveditary
Layin 'em dead up in the montuary
Death is more, life is gone
Brandish your torn; forty weeks - a soldier is born
Inbine your to let me if you could
Be a G or you claim to be let me if you could
Back shootin up, Cadillac's {*gun shot*}
Don't ever back, you show me where it's at
Off the rack comes the gay, sprays
and A.K. retaliates in a way!
We're in the land it's banned from man
Clan for clan, simple mistake, you end up dead (yeah.. say what?)
I roll with Crips (?) for the
Grip the pistol to ya brain, never takin no
Whether, Heaven or Hell, I gotsta
Rather die it happen and to die in a cell
Rather up my hollow-point shells
but nigga, you snitch and
they bodies wit the maggots and snails (UGH UGH!)
Shit, duck for T-Duck.. (ahh!), G'd up
On a for tuition, I need bucks
Big dollars.. (why?), I niggaz cause I gotta
My kids got enemys now because of they (shhh)

- 2X

Smoked and loaded and up by a locked up
On some niggaz who try to get
In the fashion, the blastin, it's to imagine
Not cashin no niggaz who be actin like
What do I do, but call my niggaz and my crew to
do what they do, and put they on you
See me automatic, cause static, inatic of a gun-play
everyday, all day
You want Ha-ha, let's bring the fan
and Daz you blast, so donate ass
as his ass got smoked
and the wrong nigga now his ass is goast
I a blunt and stick my dick in some cunt (ahh AHH!)
To me and my homeboy's, ya just punks, haha
Who really want it? Nigga get it
Slowly but surely, you ain't never forget it
How many times I say somethin, I'm fuckin wit mine
Livin the of crime where it's do or die
Y'all niggaz don't really want none of
We the shit, but ya ya crew, bitch!

[Chorus] - 3X w/

[Daz] female singer singing in background*}
Kill 'em, 'em
Yeah, pull up on this nigga here
Choke out (?) {*gun
PLO! 'EM!...