Luyện nghe bài hát I Ain't Havin' That

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

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

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

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

Aiyo, shit goes
to throw down, show up this 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 smile'll quickly be switched, bitch, and you'll
When I dig in ya pockets and all the dope out
Lay ya gold out now and don't pronounce one
Shut the fuck up, cryin' hold down

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

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

Shit, yo' be asses, I got two passes to the Baja
turn into night we fuck, yo' cars superthug privilege
I ain't got to because I did it
Run the rap when 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'
First of all there be no more talkin' out yo' ass, man
I ain't havin' no 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
horsemen head the magnum force, man, rip you get lit the fuck up
(Speed)
Like a of human torch, man, this shit scorchin'

Do the research your feet hurt half-steppin'
my shit a make your teeth hurt
Word is Jovi B you wildin'
My dick don't stay out, my stop ridin'
(My dick)

Son, niggaz tryin' ta beat me in the head wit 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 ain't that)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don't got no in mi casa
My shit's proper, you suckin' my kielbasa
From hilshire I still fire helicopters
Watch the birdie, I heard him the tale to the coppers

Clock ya from the precinct 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 ya poppa

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

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

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

they shorty wop just be feelin' me
Could it be my name or my big gold
Now, when we in the airport on our way to train
I got on the West coast
(West side)

That meet me at the airport, carryin' weed in they coats
In class, eatin' French toast and coffee
the stewardess to back up off me we on y'all
Warned ya but y'all still wait 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 ain't that, I ain't havin' that)
You just can't smoke if you put in for the sack, fuck that
(I ain't havin' that, I havin' that)

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

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