Luyện nghe bài hát I Really Mean It

You see man, get off of that lame man
Let's get into we like to do man
what we do preferably man
We bring that powerful music to your man
Killa, let em something

Guru, Just Blaze, Killa, Diplomats, huh
Juelz Santana, Jim Jones, Zekey
Hoffa, Dash, huh, Killa, huh

Ya'll niggas dreamed it, I have it
Body warm, heart
(I really it)
Coke, a nigga steamed it, I leaned em
leaned it
(I really it)

Guns, really beaming, rarely miss, really good?
Bikes, wheelie and
(I mean it)
I'm a genius, poppadopalis, leaning
On your
(I mean it)

Killa, bury mutts, they actually all ducks
Caddy trucks, it's daddy Warbucks
And you Orphan Annie, ma, take off panties
Sea soft and
(I really it)

Yeah, let's get lost in
I got lost in Boston,
of course Miami
Reno, Nevada sip colada

Mama I'm on the Prada
(I mean it)
I rock in Phoenix road to glory
Seen it, you it
(I really it)

The abuse it, it's pain in music
But year, wrist wear remains the bluest
I get lame and lose it, came to do it
Aim and shoot it, flames til your the fluid
Ya'll just kids, see what I just did, take a couple off
Let Just [unverified]

Yeah, now that's music man
You need to pop and roll something
(I really it)
Killa we did it man, I got your forever, Dip Set
(I mean it)

And lames, we pop them sideways
And drag faggots
(I mean it)
Okay, we back in, listen
(I really it)
Hey yo my garage, rock my massage
Fuck it, bucket by Osh Bgosh

Golly, I'm gully, at his galoshes
Gucci, gold, platinum plaque
From collabos, writing for assholes
Want to use my brain, give Killa mad dough

all good, increase Killa cash flow
Increase my fame, that's why Killa hoes
You'll get side swiped, look at my
movie ever, merked out Mekhi Phife

And got jerked out of pies twice
Dip Set, we working with dice
Cee-lo and craps, and stacks
I send bodies with, this note attached

Ya youngin' fucked with in the hood
Gave her a son Ricky, from Boyz in the Hood'
On the couch bloody, old sighing
Wifey
(I mean it)

Pissy little baby
Fuck upped man shit, there you it
(I mean it)
Fam man, you terry cloth, that you very soft
Gravy Mercedes, add the cranberry

Yeah, ride man
we got you, guns up
(I mean it)
And all my ladies man, the ghettos a
I you, I want you
(I really it)

Oh, pop something, something
Get twisted, on Jim nigga
(I really it)
Harlem! Man we to stay
It's left to say man
(I mean it)

Eastside, and as for that man
Now see I ain't even gone say your last
'Cause mine, I catch you, you know what it is
You faggot!

I ain't gone get to over you man
We bury you, holla!
See if you bout it, it
we is
(I mean it)
NYC!