Luyện nghe bài hát I Ain't Havin' That

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

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

(Now, by all means)
I do a in New Orleans
And get wit b'out it it Mystikal
(Starang, we missin' you)
year ATL we almost got physical

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

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

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

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

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

Shit, yo' be asses, I got two passes to the Baja
Then turn night we fuck, yo' cars superthug privilege
I ain't got to brag I did it
Run before the rap I was scrappin'

On these motherfuckin' mean streets of gun clappin'
I ain't got to front, I it happen
Strictly snappin' necks, macs and techs
Head all over, deuce, deuce, the feds

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

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

Do the research feet hurt from half-steppin'
Bitin' my shit a make your teeth
is bond Jovi B you wildin'
My dick stay out, my high stop ridin'
(My dick)

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

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

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

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

We emerge wit the blue print to plan my from central Brooklyn
Rock, the lock, Ruck, bust the sha sha
with the blast CC4 to blow 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 mass
Doin' the Macarana over 2 pounds of
(We havin' that)

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

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

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

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

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

Son, you know they can't me
'Cuz my crew heat like Miami
Ran for these rappaz outside of the
They be killin' me, how willingly be grillin' me

'Cuz they shorty wop just be me
Could it be my name or my big gold
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, weed in they trench coats
In business class, French toast and coffee
the stewardess to back up off me we on y'all
Warned ya but y'all still couldn't for the all-time great
William H. up

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

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

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