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 blaze in the hood,
I was three when my took a long vacation,
Now I'm solo the revlation,
Gotta bolo for a fiend to hit,
And I show no feeny if u 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 this mex in a Lex just banging
Tex, you know I'm gonna wreck this shit,
Along with any other 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 nuts so stylish, Model it,
Hold my dick like a 64', peace to all my mamas,
But though, I'm a damn fool,
And G's can vouch that, up in the puttin'
Cheese on a trap, and one day I'm gonna rise,
And up, till 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 my hood it felt good,
All my have my back with a gat in Hillwood,
Hustlin' is the hobby, if you will,
And all of those hoes really us on the Hill,
Be if your blood runs deep in the hood,
All the punished woulda 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 up with a mic,
I write what u like, 'cause it's my life,
I never shife not to type, I am,
But if tryin to take my ends,
I be bam bam to that man in the pen,
Older too young to get stung,
with the holy boys,
Hold the I show boys to precise to
from the skunk my blunt,
To be nice shoot hit killa,
the mothafuckin eightball,
Pour a little for the ones who took that fall,
'cause I keeps all my homies in my heart,
They got a start, and still we never part.

[Third
I remember December of 88', boys hit the cut was
To late to break, Had to swallow three tossed
My Chrome in the bushes, dirty pigs jackin' 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, give my seven in the slammer,
Damma, old passin' time,
All my frends gone guess I'm 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 search my Caddi,
It's a risk when you tryin to make that bank,
But them 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 take order,
You just want singled every five and a quarter.

(Straight up big baby)