Luyện nghe bài hát Hillwood

[First
The year is 7'0, the fifth,
I done did my nine months now my life a shift,
In the freeworld now, you better me good,
But instead I in the crazy hood,
I was three when my pops took a vacation,
Now I'm solo the revlation,
Gotta bolo for a dope to hit,
And I show no if u want some shit,
I'm as the sky, fishin' 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 know I'm gonna wreck shit,
Along with any bitch who disrespect my clique,
a bit, I got the heart if a killa,
And them hoes come out like a wheela,
'cause I freaks my draulics, fuckin' in college,
Bitches swingin' on my nuts so stylish, Model it,
Hold my dick like a 64', 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 mouse trap, and one day I'm rise,
And come up, till then I'm dope from sundown
To sunup.

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

[Second
As I crept through my hood it good,
All my homies my back 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 your runs deep in the hood,
All the punished shoulda woulda put a in da wood,
All stood, all good, keep they fucking bank if I
you got, but my glock I degrate,
You the way G's comin up with a mic,
I what u like, 'cause it's my mothafucking life,
I never shife not to type, I am,
But if they to take my ends,
I be bam bam to that man in the pen,
Older boys too to get stung,
Come the holy boys,
the noise I show boys to precise to
Fend from the my blunt,
To be nice shoot hit killa,
Straight the eightball,
Pour a little for the who took that great fall,
'cause I keeps all my dead in my heart,
got a head start, and still we never part.

[Third
I remember of 88', blue boys hit the cut was
To late to break, Had to swallow three tossed
My Chrome in the bushes, seven dirty pigs up
Three bushes, my homie got a case to race the
Van, got scooped and to face the man,
In the black with the wooden hammer,
Bamma, my nigga seven in the slammer,
Damma, old passin' time,
All my frends guess I'm last in line,
Betta me a new way to hustle,
Six in the game and I still feel the struggle,
Smuggle weed 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 when you tryin to make that fast bank,
But them mutts smell past my gas tank,
So I catch 59 back to H-Town, safely with my 38
Pounds, fresh from the border, may I your order,
You just want them singled every and a quarter.

(Straight up big baby)