Luyện nghe bài hát Hillwood

[First
The is 7'0, October the fifth,
I done did my nine months now my take a shift,
In the freeworld now, you better me good,
But instead I in the crazy hood,
I was when my pops took a long vacation,
Now I'm facin' the revlation,
Gotta bolo for a fiend to hit,
And I no feeny if u want some shit,
I'm as the sky, fishin' for fry,
Be a G the D-A-Y I die, oh my,
Why would u ever test this mex in a Lex banging
Outta Tex, you I'm gonna wreck this shit,
Along with any other who disrespect my clique,
a bit, I got the heart if a killa,
And them hoes come out a three wheela,
I freaks my draulics, fuckin' hoes in college,
Bitches on my nuts it's so stylish, Model it,
Hold my like a 64', peace to all my baby's mamas,
But though, I'm a damn fool,
And G's can vouch that, up in the ghetto
Cheese on a trap, and one day I'm gonna rise,
And come up, then I'm dealin' dope from sundown
To sunup.

Off the hills, of hillwood, Texas(x3)
You not test this mex in a Lex

Verse]
As I crept through my hood it good,
All my homies have my with a gat in Hillwood,
is the hobby, brothers if you will,
And all of hoes really love us on the Hill,
Be if your blood runs deep in the hood,
All the punished shoulda put a bunk in da wood,
All stood, all good, keep they bank if I take
you got, but my glock I degrate,
You hate the way G's up with a mic,
I what u like, 'cause it's my mothafucking life,
I shife not to type, indeed I am,
But if they to take my ends,
I be damn bam bam to man in the pen,
Older too young to get stung,
Come the holy boys,
Hold the I show boys to precise to
Fend from the my blunt,
To be nice dice hit killa,
Straight the eightball,
Pour a little for the who took that great fall,
'cause I all my dead homies in my heart,
got a head start, and still we never part.

[Third
I remember December of 88', blue hit the cut was
To late to break, Had to swallow three stones
My Chrome in the bushes, dirty pigs jackin' up
bushes, my homie got a case tryin' to race the
Van, got scooped and fixin' to the man,
In the gown with the wooden hammer,
Bamma, give my nigga in the slammer,
Damma, old passin' time,
All my gone guess I'm last in line,
find me a new way to hustle,
Six years in the game and I still the struggle,
weed across the checkpoint,
Just another day on the job as I mob but the oink,
a joint on the way to the valley,
Now I'm comin' back and they wanna my Caddi,
It's a risk you tryin to make that fast bank,
But mutts can't smell past my gas tank,
So I catch 59 to H-Town, arrive safely with my 38
Pounds, fresh from the border, may I your order,
You want them singled every five and a quarter.

(Straight up big baby)