Luyện nghe bài hát Iatola

1]
I'm meetin up with the
3-2 and the Hillwood
Comin straight out the though
the brain representin my ghetto
Its a how they die young
In the hood in my Cadillac flyer, thru the
Wit my homie in the Clover
soda mind of a noter
Lean on my slang coca
20 g'z on my Villanova
Blow marijuana in the
While my move dope on the corner
V-12 vida loca
Now your bitch trying to give me her
Fat roller in my trocka
And my girl called the cops 'cause I her
Copa Cabana thankin
For the keyboard that wit the sampler
up the Clarion wit the stelly on
She wit me 'cause I am the

2]
Its the same ol though
Nigga died he fucked wit the wrong hoe
Its the of the times man
By second God that I'm alive man
to my dead g's
Fell short trying to stack up benjis
In the and the fog
Boys squab
All on my like corn on the cob
You aint shit but a job for one of my
How many must die by the trigga
Im a sipper ima swerver first degree
Smoke a fried stick and get than a surfer
No reversing my nature 90 on my pager
I dont love you I dont hate you but I misplace you
In the gutter for the of it
nigga chuggin shit candy on my mothership
And haters they can suck a

3]
So this what it came to yall the same
Old friends Southeast niggas blue
But I gangbang I claim no color
She lost her son what if that was mother
I sit back in my '92 blue
And I support foundations LULAC
I went to Alma in second ward Sherman
was back when niggas jammin to Pee Wee Herman
Smokin my teacher but not the preacher
I fuckin Liz on the bleachers
wasnt making hits
I was chicks having bad relationships
Now I fuck Asian bitches Haitian bitches
Romanian Italian some fucking bang
I went from pain to rich and I malicious
Shoot em up and leave em laying in some strange