Luyện nghe bài hát I Am The Streets

Fire!

[Verse 1 - Ross]
in a cab but I'm dreaming of a slab
Cooking ounces at a time, pussy nigga do the
Ten ice chains, Prince like
The day I made a stack in the trap, my changed
Y'all ride swangers, we Daytons
It don't matter you from, haters stay hating
Keep the windows tinted, artillery I'm in it
Whip it in the kitchen Hillary became a Clinton
by nature, cash flow was major
In the old school, or M codes and
with a crumb, but turned it to a brick
They calling me a bum, my turn, I'm the shit
Razor things, age of fifteen
Got a Chevy in that thing, blades like Creams
Rose on the wrist, when the shows exist
Now my money long enough to put the on a six

[Chorus -
From the depths of the sea to the in the sky
be a hustler till I die
Sixty in the clip in enough pride
But all haters want to try
So shorty what you on?
Marijuana's what I'm on
I don't care if you me crazy
But niggas getting mullah baby

[Verse 2 - Trae tha
I'm still located in the gutter, fresh set of
Watching haters out a foreign, chopper on the
Pillowcases full of money, still got no place to go
So I evacuate the safe, hit the and let it blow
You thinking I the king of my section, nigga you way off
My make the killer amazing like it's the playoffs
In the hood for real, corners I never stay off
Satin black Camaro, the till the day off
that
I remember of having visions of getting
Now I sit on something suede or in something that's sprayed
I'm in that with the trap around the third eye
This the National Hood Geographics, it bird watching
I'm this jungle cinematic stones
Interstate, but the bread talking money so
Pussy niggas mad because I'm my money on
Who else you know got out the hood and put half the on?

[Bridge -
My name Young Lloyd, yeah you what I'm on
Many girls are in my Styrofoam
And I'm in the H-Town, so play around
Or my nigga Trae tha Truth going to lay you
Rick be the boss in the Phantom and all
Got round the clock rocks, spring, winter, and
Some of y'all call me crazy
But niggas getting mullah baby

[Verse 3 - The
I'm a born asshole, is you? Yeah, why?
Because it's do or die them choppers in the air
I see clear as Belvedere, you know this my year
no attention to y'all, I'm still thinking about Shakur
Having suicidal thoughts in this Phantom, a bitch ain't it?
Paid a a million for this motherfucker, then paint it
Chinchilla floor mats, that's paper
Me and flying through Houston like Von Wafer
You ain't balling, you T-Mack, you stay hurt
I more Pequa, got more rocks than a Jay verse
I used to pounds, watch 'Mash', and weigh work
Got shot and woke up out a coma, could've way worse
But now I'm living for my
Locked deep down in the hole, with no vision
I drop the top, I do it for you
So close your and let the sun shine through