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 ass niggaz everywhere
(Yeah nigga, Daz and Kurupt) killin, everyday all day
I'm out!

Nigga cause you better strapped wit some tec's
to get back or get capped, the back slap, a flap
Swingle's the when them thangs come 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 less in the
Bitch ass ass bastards, heartless, senseless coward
I was born to devauer, cut sorry's
For all my niggaz behind bars
Scared for life, the blade of a knife
The kid strikes at thirteen for takin ya
Seven tec's, I repect; you "Chin Check" the rest
or die when bitch ass death
I take precaution, these streets, flossin and ballin
Keep your hand on yo' heat, we playin for keeps
niggaz do real thangs in this gang-bang life we lead
You hang, nigga die and bleed
Murder won't stop 'til buster and sucker drop
Fuck the cops, stop me corruptin the block
pass the glocks in the weed spot
Stop playa hatin, whodie got and yo' own knock
Tryna perfect the shine, the fifty-eight die
Blind ya when we comin behind

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

(?)'s a herb, call the the murderer
Camaro's, I show no mercy and no
Fuedin, layin 'em down, for every radio,
Layin 'em down dead up in the
Death is more, another is gone
Brandish torn; forty weeks later - a soldier is born
Inbine your neighborhood to let me if you
Be a G or you claim to be let me know if you
Back shootin up, hoes Cadillac's shot*}
ever come 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 where banned from man
Clan for clan, simple mistake, you end up dead (yeah.. say what?)
I roll Crips (?) for the chips
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 load up my hollow-point
but nigga, you and tell
leave they bodies wit the maggots and (UGH UGH!)
Shit, for T-Duck.. (ahh!), always G'd up
On a mission for tuition, I bucks
Big dollars.. (why?), I niggaz cause I gotta
My got enemys now because of they father (shhh)

- 2X

Smoked and loaded and up by a locked up
On some who try to get buck
In the fashion, the blastin, it's to imagine
Not cashin no niggaz who be like bastards
What do I do, but my niggaz and my crew to come
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 fucked the nigga now his ass is goast
I smoke a blunt and stick my dick in some (ahh AHH!)
To me and my homeboy's, ya some punks, haha
Who really want it? come get it
Slowly but surely, homey you ain't never it
How times I gotta say somethin, I'm fuckin wit mine
Livin the life of where it's do or die
Y'all niggaz don't really want of this
We the shit, but ya ya crew, bitch!

- 3X w/ variations

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