Luyện nghe bài hát I Really Mean It

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

Young Guru, Blaze, Killa, Diplomats, huh
Santana, Jim Jones, Freaky Zekey
Hoffa, Dash, huh, Killa, huh

Ya'll niggas dreamed it, I seen it
warm, heart anemic
(I really it)
Coke, a nigga it, fiends I leaned em
leaned it
(I mean it)

Guns, really beaming, miss, what's really good?
Bikes, and creamin'
(I mean it)
I'm a genius, poppadopalis, never
On your
(I mean it)

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

Yeah, let's get in candy
I got lost in Boston,
Flossin' of Miami
Reno, Nevada sip pina

I'm seen on the Prada
(I mean it)
I rock more in Phoenix to glory
it, you seen it
(I mean it)

The game abuse it, pain in music
But this year, wrist remains the bluest
I get lame and lose it, beef to do it
Aim and shoot it, flames til your the fluid
Ya'll just kids, see what I just did, a couple bars off
Let Just live

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

And them lames, we pop them
And drag them
(I really it)
Okay, we back in, Mami
(I mean it)
Hey yo lock my garage, rock my
Fuck it, bucket by Osh Kosh

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

It's all good, 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 Papi got out of pies twice
Dip Set, we with five dice
and craps, C-notes and stacks
I send bodies with, read this note

Ya fucked with boys in the hood
her a son like Ricky, from Boyz in the Hood'
On the couch bloody, old lady
Wifey
(I really it)

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

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

Oh, pop something, something
Get twisted, that's on Jim
(I really it)
Harlem! Man we to stay
nothing left to say man
(I really it)

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

I ain't gone get to hyped you man
We gon' you, holla!
See if you it, bout it
we is
(I really it)
NYC!