Luyện nghe bài hát Hillwood

[First
The year is 7'0, the fifth,
I did my nine months now my life take a shift,
In the now, you better raised me good,
But I blaze in the crazy hood,
I was when my pops took a long vacation,
Now I'm facin' the revlation,
Gotta for a dope fiend to hit,
And I show no 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 mex in a Lex just banging
Outta Tex, you I'm gonna wreck this shit,
with any other bitch who disrespect my clique,
Like a bit, I got the if a killa,
And them come out like a three wheela,
'cause I freaks my draulics, hoes in college,
Bitches on my nuts it's so stylish, Model it,
Hold my dick 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 puttin'
on a mouse trap, and one day I'm gonna rise,
And come up, till then I'm 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 back a gat in Hillwood,
is the hobby, brothers if you will,
And all of those really love us on the Hill,
Be real if your blood deep in the hood,
All the punished woulda put a bunk in da wood,
All stood, all good, keep fucking bank if I take
you got, but my glock I degrate,
You hate the way G's up with a mic,
I write what u like, 'cause it's my life,
I never shife not to type, I am,
But if they tryin to my ends,
I be bam bam to that man in the pen,
Older too young to get stung,
Come with the boys,
Hold the I show boys to precise to
Fend from the my blunt,
To be nice shoot hit killa,
the mothafuckin eightball,
Pour a little for the who took that great fall,
I keeps all my dead 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 stones tossed
My Chrome in the bushes, seven pigs jackin' up
Three bushes, my homie got a tryin' to race the
Van, got scooped and to face the man,
In the gown with the wooden hammer,
Bamma, give my nigga in the slammer,
Damma, old mothafucka time,
All my gone guess I'm last in line,
find me a new way to hustle,
Six in the game and I still feel the struggle,
Smuggle weed the checkpoint,
another day on the job as I mob but the pigs oink,
Smoke a on the way to the valley,
Now I'm comin' back and wanna search my Caddi,
It's a risk when you tryin to that fast bank,
But them mutts can't smell my gas tank,
So I 59 back to H-Town, arrive safely with my 38
Pounds, fresh the border, may I take your order,
You just want them singled five and a quarter.

(Straight up big baby)