Luyện nghe bài hát Hillwood

[First
The is 7'0, October the fifth,
I done did my nine now my life take a shift,
In the freeworld now, you raised me good,
But instead I blaze in the hood,
I was three when my pops a long vacation,
Now I'm solo the revlation,
Gotta for a dope fiend to hit,
And I show no if u want some shit,
I'm high as the sky, for fry,
Be a G till the I die, oh my,
Why would u ever test mex in a Lex just banging
Outta Tex, you I'm gonna wreck this shit,
Along with any bitch who disrespect my clique,
Like a bit, I got the if a killa,
And hoes come out like a three wheela,
'cause I my draulics, fuckin' hoes in college,
Bitches swingin' on my it's so stylish, Model it,
Hold my like a 64', peace to all my baby's mamas,
But really though, I'm a fool,
And G's can vouch that, up in the puttin'
on a mouse trap, and one day I'm gonna rise,
And come up, till then I'm dealin' dope from
To sunup.

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

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

[Third
I December of 88', blue boys hit the cut was
To late to break, Had to swallow three stones
My Chrome in the bushes, seven dirty jackin' up
Three bushes, my homie got a case tryin' to the
Van, got scooped and to face the man,
In the black gown the wooden hammer,
Bamma, give my nigga in the slammer,
Damma, old mothafucka time,
All my frends gone I'm last in line,
find me a new way to hustle,
Six years in the game and I feel 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 when you tryin to make fast bank,
But them can't smell past my gas tank,
So I catch 59 back to H-Town, arrive safely my 38
Pounds, fresh from the border, may I take order,
You want them singled every five and a quarter.

(Straight up big baby)