Luyện nghe bài hát I Ain't Havin' That

They like us
up
They don't us
They ain't gotta like us fuck son

Starang like Wu Tang my crew brings drama
Hangin' your ass upside by ya shoe strings
Smoke, tell 'em how we doin'
the whole shit just to big up my newness

(Now, by all means)
I do a show in New
And get wit it 'bout it Mystikal
(Starang, we been you)
Last ATL we almost got physical

I can't talk, now, read it in the interview
(While up in D&D)
I caught two and three
I was gettin' bitches in the tunnel takin' pictures
In the mazda listenin' to 'Kris, I Got
I hot sex, so I ran and got the Lex

Aiyo, shit goes
Time to throw down, show up a showdown
So, down low, now, I'm low
down the fort, now wit a fo' pound
Blow down ya whole first go round

Yo quickly be switched, bitch, and you'll frown
I dig in ya pockets and take all the dope out
Lay ya out now and don't pronounce one word
the fuck up, probably cryin' hold down

Tired of punk asses, takin' shit for a
Now, you'll pounce gat pointed at yo door
Act like you now
We could be so foul, your hand, run up in ya bitch, no doubt

I ain't that
I ain't that
I havin' that
I havin' that

Shit, yo' game be asses, I got two passes to the
Then turn night we fuck, yo' cars superthug privilege
I got to brag because I did it
Run before the rap I was scrappin'

On these motherfuckin' streets of Brownsville gun clappin'
I got to front, I make it happen
Strictly snappin' necks, strictly and techs
all night over, deuce, deuce, the feds

Yo, matter fact, a list of some of the shit I ain't havin'
First of all there be no more talkin' out yo' ass, man
I ain't havin' no back stabbin', I ain't havin'
Run yo' mouth, you get smacked in it, Why?
(Why?)

Why ask? Why say goodbye to mister nice Say hi to the bad guy
horsemen head the magnum force, man, rip you get lit the fuck up
(Speed)
Like a spliff of human torch, man, shit scorchin'

Do the research your feet hurt from
Bitin' my shit a make your hurt
is bond Jovi B you wildin'
My don't stay out, my high stop ridin'
(My dick)

Son, niggaz tryin' ta beat me in the wit gats fuck that
(I ain't havin' that, I havin' that)
Run up in the piece think you gone dead fuck that
(I ain't havin' that, I ain't that)

U.S. Marshall's at my crib, tryin' ta me back, fuck that
(I ain't havin' that, I havin' that)
We could take it ol' school at 3, meet me in the back, fuck
(I havin' that, I ain't havin' that)

Yo, yo, ya at?
To all my peoples passed off
Give a toast to my MFC
While you clowns waitin', is shakin' the foundation

Wit some groundbreakin' shit that'll the town thinking
When I cock back my pistol, drop back and
For my niggas to hold me because this here 'bout to get hit dude
We miss you, a niggas roll and his fool clique
I full clip for you and all of ya bull

U.S. Marshall and your little, whittle, when left is caught up on my
Eat a between 2 slices of bread, you fuckin' fag
MFC keep it
(Keep it cookin')

We wit the blue print to plan my escape from central Brooklyn
Rock, the lock, Ruck, bust the sha sha
Keep with the blast CC4 to the door
(Now, we the spot)

and dedicated semi under rated, fuck it, to me dated by a wip ass
You niggaz lick ass, we blast gas pletal freak
Doin' the Macarana 2 pounds of hash
(We ain't that)

I ain't havin'
I havin' that
I havin' that
I ain't havin'
I ain't havin'

You got no wins in mi casa
My shit's proper, you still suckin' my
From hilshire I still from helicopters
Watch the birdie, I heard him tell the tale to the

Clock ya comin' from the singin' operas
Met you at ya crib from the blind side, I ya
Knocked ya, teeth out ya mouth when I ya
Sent you upstate to get a gun from ya

Yo, live niggaz on the wall, write smoke, crack, fuck that
(I ain't havin' that, I ain't that)
Yo, ya me and I smack you back fuck that
(I havin' that, I ain't havin that)

Y'all niggaz think y'all gon' around here flashin' track, fuck that
(I havin' that, I ain't havin' that)
And if you owe me dough, besta get my trap, fuck that
(I ain't havin' that, I ain't that)

Son, you know they stand me
'Cuz my crew pack like Miami
Ran for these rappaz of the Grammy's
They be killin' me, how they be grillin' me

'Cuz shorty wop just be feelin' me
Could it be my or my big gold chain?
Now, when we in the on our way to soul train
I got niggaz on the West
(West side)

That meet me at the airport, carryin' weed in trench coats
In business class, eatin' toast and coffee
Tell the stewardess to up off me we on y'all
Warned ya but y'all still couldn't wait for the great
William H. up

And if ya call and I'm not home you can call me back, fuck that
(I havin' that, I ain't havin' that)
You can't smoke if you ain't put in for the sack, fuck that
(I ain't that, I ain't havin' that)

Son, don't fuck her raw, here's a jimmy hat, fuck
(I havin' that, I ain't havin' that)
Here's a tic-tac, your breath smell like ass crack, that

And when you know that when you're MFC, MFC for life
98 shit, H. Duren, Doc Holiday