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 down by ya shoe strings
Smoke, tell 'em how we this
Stop the whole shit to big up my newness

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

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

Aiyo, shit goes
Time to throw down, 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 and take all the dope out
Lay ya gold out now and don't one word
the fuck up, probably 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 hand, run up in ya bitch, no doubt

I ain't that
I ain't havin'
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' superthug privilege
I got to brag because I did it
Run before the rap when I was

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

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

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

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

Son, niggaz tryin' ta beat me in the head wit gats fuck
(I ain't havin' that, I ain't that)
Run up in the think you gone 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, that
(I ain't that, I ain't havin' that)
We could take it ol' school at 3, 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, 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 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 dick between 2 of bread, you fuckin' fag
MFC it cookin'
(Keep it cookin')

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

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

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

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

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

Yo, live niggaz on the wall, write that smoke, crack, fuck
(I havin' that, I ain't havin' that)
Yo, ya smack me and I you back fuck that
(I ain't havin' that, I 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, 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 outside of the
They be me, how they willingly be grillin' me

'Cuz they shorty wop just be 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 coast
(West side)

That meet me at the airport, carryin' weed in 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 wait for the great
William H. up

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

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

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