Luyện nghe bài hát Hold His Own

Yo, yo
What,
Wanna
Come on, on
What,
Bounce,
it out y'all

Yo, you see the Benz I'm in, with BBS
Playing Lil' part off The Benjamins
I a player, I just wear Tims
No need for gators, my can't swim
I'm in Reno, Nevada, a pena colada
How many niggas can see
This killin' and budgin'
Women love me in jeans and rugbys
You can hate it or love it, it or dub it
Compared to us, ain't nuttin'
It's funny how get paid for frontin'
Glorifying crimes, and ain't done 'em
My rhymes'll split 'em like pimpin', Dom P
I'm not a baller, even lived it
Women callin', since my days in the crawlin'
I plan to live
I live nike dunks, icey
A fly wifey I can
Not that she wanna hesit me for re-up
I might be, Iron Mike if you try to me
I say this politely, tell it to a
from the start, get money to the end
What up with Cormega? Did you see
Leanin' in the BM with the rim's

[Chorus - Carl
Mega gonna his own
He always he could do it alone
And he rhymes
Everybody's know

Yo, I write for the flyest whips, finest chicks
And any nigga that thinks he's as nice as this
See me chillin' in with women and thugs
Whoever test this, we fill 'em with slugs
My jewlery gliestenin', rhymes sickenin'
Game Fab 5 at Michigan, you listening?
Pimps, I 'em, niggas, don't trust 'em
Snitches, want 'em in my shit
We in a tunnel, buyin' mo' by the
You know when we come through, get it
But right, techs spit nice
I know where you read my man was jessying your
I you chill unless you ill enough to test the skill
I possess niggas, for real
I'm the last of the mohecans, rhyme ill flow
Due to magazines, no equal
No sequel to my flow evil, your people
We through time, you're see-through
Nas off the meter, for the Beamers
Roll wit' overacheivers, my people, my people madenas
you at dime-peices, fly features?
Lookin' so right my man is dying to ya
I know your baby dad just buying you
But I'm a keep it real, I ain't
it out

Yo, to the haters, lovers, thug baby
Walk around me to play stuck-up
See me in a and wanna say "what's up?"
I put my foot and the gas and tell ass "tough luck"
I don't beef, I finish it
My hearts diminishin'
Before a rapper had dough, you
You a nigga, first it was Biggie and Pac
Now you jealous of
You like a implant, fake on the inside
You nice, battle for dough Mr. Big-Time
On Hot 97, or at Envy's
I can ass-bend you and leave with 10 g's
Too real for you, what you I live and breath
Whoever wanna intervene, come on, get team
And I'm a you who the illest
'Cause everybody know who the
Now it