Luyện nghe bài hát I Ain't Havin' That

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

Starang forever Wu Tang my crew brings drama
Hangin' your ass down by ya shoe strings
Smoke, 'em how we doin' this
the whole shit just 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 ATL we almost got physical

I can't talk, now, about it in the interview
(While up in D&D)
I two and three stitches
I was still 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, goes down
Time to throw down, show up a showdown
So, low, now, I'm low down
Hold down the fort, now wit a fo'
Blow down ya 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 gold out now and don't 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, shake hand, run up in ya bitch, no doubt

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

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 brag I did it
Run before the rap I was scrappin'

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

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 no back stabbin', I ain't havin' shit
Run yo' mouth, you get smacked in it, Why?
(Why?)

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

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

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

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

Wit some groundbreakin' shit that'll 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, stick a niggas roll and his fool
I full clip for you and all of ya bull

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

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

Armed and dedicated semi 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 havin' that)

I ain't that
I ain't havin'
I havin' that
I ain't that
I ain't 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 him tell the tale to the coppers

ya comin' 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 ya poppa

Yo, niggaz on the wall, write that 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' come 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 that, I ain't havin' that)

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

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

That meet me at the airport, carryin' weed in trench coats
In business class, eatin' French 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 and I'm not home then you can call me back, fuck 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 ain't that)

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

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