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 do the math
Ten ice chains, like James
The day I made a stack in the trap, my changed
Y'all swangers, we ride Daytons
It don't matter where you from, haters hating
Keep the windows tinted, when 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 and fragers
Started with a crumb, but it to a brick
They were me a bum, my turn, I'm the shit
flipped things, age of fifteen
Got a Chevy in that thing, like Chris Creams
Rose on the wrist, the shows ain't exist
Now my long enough to put the fours on a six

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

[Verse 2 - Trae tha
I'm still in the gutter, fresh set of fours
haters out a foreign, chopper on the floor
Pillowcases of money, still ain't got no place to go
So I evacuate the safe, hit the hood and let it
You I ain't the king of my section, nigga you way off
My hustle make the killer amazing like it's the
In the hood for real, these corners I never off
black Camaro, the Challenger till the day off
Picture
I of having visions of getting paid
Now I sit on something or in something that's getting sprayed
I'm in that field with the around the third eye
This the National Geographics, call it bird watching
I'm jungle rocking cinematic stones
Interstate, but the bread talking so long
niggas mad because I'm getting my money on
Who else you know got out the and put half the city on?

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

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