Luyện nghe bài hát Here We Are/Go Killem

[Daz](Kurupt)
Psss.. yeah..
It's about time y'all 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 come strapped wit some tec's
to get or get capped, the back slap, a late flap
Swingle's the cheater when them thangs come in in the dark
I want my when you singin the sparks
Dustin off bread, for startin Rucker's
touch us, me and my homey reply wit fuckers
Me and my dogg's blast leavin y'all less in the action
Bitch ass ass bastards, heartless, senseless coward
I was born to devauer, cut your
For all my real niggaz bars
Scared for life, from the blade of a
The kid strikes at thirteen for takin ya
Seven tec's, I earn you "Chin Check" the rest
or die when bitch 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 can't hang, die and bleed
Murder stop 'til every 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 clock yo' own
perfect the shine, the fifty-eight camera's die
Blind ya when we from behind

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

(?)'s a herb, the choreographer the murderer
Camaro's, I show no mercy and no
Fuedin, 'em down, for every radio, seveditary
'em down dead up in the montuary
Death is more, another is gone
Brandish your torn; forty weeks later - a is born
your neighborhood to let me if you could
Be a G or you claim to be let me know if you
Back shootin up, Cadillac's {*gun 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 it's from man
Clan for clan, where simple mistake, you end up (yeah.. say what?)
I roll with (?) for the chips
Grip the pistol to ya brain, never no shit
Whether, Heaven or Hell, I prevail
Rather die it happen and to die in a cell
Rather load up my shells
but nigga, you and tell
leave they bodies wit the and snails (UGH UGH!)
Shit, duck for T-Duck.. (ahh!), G'd up
On a mission for tuition, I need
Big dollars.. (why?), I jack niggaz I gotta
My got enemys now because of they father (shhh)

- 2X

Smoked and loaded and up by a locked up
On niggaz who try to get buck
In the fashion, the blastin, it's to imagine
Not no niggaz who be actin like bastards
What do I do, but call my niggaz and my crew to
do they do, and put they work 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 bitch ass
as his ass got smoked
and fucked the wrong nigga now his ass is
I smoke a blunt and stick my dick in some (ahh AHH!)
To me and my homeboy's, ya just some punks,
Who really want it? come get it
but surely, homey you ain't never forget it
How many times I say somethin, I'm fuckin wit mine
the life of crime where it's do or die
Y'all niggaz don't want none of this
We the shit, but ya ya crew, bitch!

[Chorus] - 3X w/

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