Luyện nghe bài hát I Ain't Havin' That

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

Starang forever like Wu Tang my crew drama
Hangin' your ass upside down by ya 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 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 bitches in the tunnel takin' pictures
In the mazda to 'Kris, I Got Next'
I hot sex, so I ran and got the Lex

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why ask? Why say to mister nice guy? 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, this shit

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

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

U.S. at my crib, tryin' ta take me back, fuck that
(I havin' that, I ain't havin' that)
We could it ol' school at 3, meet me in the back, fuck that
(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 shit that'll leave the town thinking
When I cock back my pistol, drop back and
For my niggas to hold me down because this here to get hit dude
We miss you, a niggas 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 dick between 2 of bread, you fuckin' fag
MFC it cookin'
(Keep it cookin')

We emerge wit the blue print to my escape from central Brooklyn
Rock, pick the lock, Ruck, 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 over 2 pounds of hash
(We ain't that)

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

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

Clock ya comin' the precinct singin' operas
Met you at ya from the blind side, I dropped 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 that smoke, crack, that
(I ain't that, I ain't havin' that)
Yo, ya smack me and I you back fuck that
(I ain't havin' that, I ain't that)

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

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

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

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

And if ya call and I'm not home then you can call me back, 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, fuck her raw, here's a jimmy hat, fuck that
(I havin' that, I ain't havin' that)
a tic-tac, your breath smell like ass crack, fuck that

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