Luyện nghe bài hát Here We Are/Go Killem

[Daz](Kurupt)
Psss.. yeah..
It's time 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 come strapped wit some
to get back or get capped, the back slap, a flap
Swingle's the cheater when them thangs in screechin in the dark
I want my snija when you the sparks
off bread, motherfuckers for startin Rucker's
Can't touch us, me and my reply wit fuckers
Me and my dogg's blast attention leavin less in the action
Bitch ass sorry ass bastards, heartless, coward
I was born to devauer, cut your
For all my real niggaz bars
for life, from 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 your bitch ass
I take precaution, stalkin these streets, and ballin
Keep hand on yo' heat, cause we playin for keeps
Real niggaz do real in this gang-bang life we lead
You can't hang, die and bleed
Murder won't stop 'til every buster and drop
the cops, stop me from corruptin the block
Rocks pass the glocks in the spot
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, aiyya (get gone, get gone) {*gun
Gonna get gone, aiyya, aiyya (get gone, get gone) shot*}

(?)'s a herb, call the choreographer the
Camaro's, I no mercy and no sorrow
Fuedin, layin 'em down, for every radio,
Layin 'em dead up in the montuary
Death is more, another is gone
Brandish your torn; weeks later - a soldier is born
Inbine neighborhood to let me if you could
Be a G or you claim to be let me if you could
Back shootin up, hoes Cadillac's {*gun
ever come back, you show me where it's at
Off the rack comes the gay, sprays
and A.K. in a major 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 (?) for the chips
Grip the pistol to ya brain, never no shit
Whether, Heaven or Hell, I gotsta
Rather die makin it and to die in a cell
load up my hollow-point shells
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 need
Big dollars.. (why?), I jack cause I gotta
My kids got enemys now of they father (shhh)

- 2X

Smoked and and fucked up by a locked up
On niggaz who try to get buck
In the fashion, the blastin, hard to imagine
Not cashin no niggaz who be actin like
What do I do, but my niggaz and my crew to come
do what do, and put they work on you
See me automatic, cause static, inatic of a gun-play
everyday, all day
You want trouble? Ha-ha, bring the fan
and Daz you blast, so donate ass
Adios as his ass got
and fucked the wrong now his ass is goast
I smoke a blunt and stick my in some cunt (ahh AHH!)
To me and my homeboy's, ya some punks, haha
Who really want it? come get it
but surely, homey you ain't never forget it
How many times I gotta say somethin, I'm wit mine
Livin the of crime where it's do or die
Y'all niggaz don't really none of this
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 right
Choke out (?) {*gun
PLO! 'EM!...