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

Nigga cause you come strapped wit some tec's
to get back or get capped, the back slap, a late
Swingle's the cheater when them come in screechin 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 blast attention leavin y'all less in the action
ass sorry ass bastards, heartless, senseless coward
I was born to devauer, cut sorry's
For all my real behind bars
Scared for life, from the of a knife
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, flossin and
Keep hand on yo' heat, cause we playin for keeps
niggaz do real thangs in this gang-bang life we lead
You can't hang, die and bleed
Murder won't stop 'til every buster and drop
Fuck the cops, stop me from corruptin the
Rocks pass the glocks in the spot
Stop hatin, whodie got and clock yo' own knock
perfect the shine, the fifty-eight camera's die
Blind ya when we comin from

[Chorus: male singer + female
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, 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 radio, seveditary
Layin 'em dead up in the montuary
Death is more, another is gone
your torn; forty weeks later - a soldier is born
Inbine your to let me if you could
Be a G or you to be let me know if you could
Back shootin up, hoes {*gun shot*}
Don't ever come back, you show me where at
Off the rack the gay, buck sprays
and A.K. retaliates in a way!
We're in the land it's banned from man
Clan for clan, where 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 shells
but nigga, you snitch and
leave bodies wit the maggots 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 kids got enemys now because of father (shhh)

- 2X

Smoked and and fucked up by a locked up
On some niggaz who try to get
In the fashion, the blastin, it's to imagine
Not no niggaz who be actin like bastards
do I do, but call my niggaz and my crew to come
do what they do, and put work on you
See me automatic, static, static's 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 the wrong 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 just some punks,
Who want it? Nigga come get it
Slowly but surely, homey you ain't forget it
How times I gotta say somethin, I'm fuckin wit mine
Livin the of crime 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] {*w/ female singing in background*}
'em, kill 'em
Yeah, up on this nigga right here
out (?) {*gun shot*}
PLO! 'EM!...