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 trip how they die
In the hood in my flyer, thru the 'Wood
Wit my homie in the Clover
Pink soda of a noter
Lean on my shoulder slang
20 g'z on my team
marijuana in the sauna
While my niggas move dope on the
motor vida loca
Now your bitch to give me her panocha
Fat roller in my trocka
And my girl called the cops 'cause I her
Cabana thankin Santa
For the keyboard that wit the sampler
Turn up the Clarion wit the on
She wit me 'cause I am the

2]
Its the ol story though
Nigga 'cause he fucked wit the wrong hoe
Its the sign of the man
By second God that I'm alive man
Peace to my g's
Fell short to stack up they benjis
In the and the fog
Boys squab
All on my dick corn on the cob
You shit but a job for one of my killers
How many must die by the trigga
Im a ima swerver first degree murder
Smoke a fried stick and get than a surfer
No reversing my nature 90 pounds on my
I dont love you I dont you but I will misplace you
In the for the fuck of it
Gangsta nigga chuggin candy on my mothership
And haters they can a dick

3]
So what it came to yall the same crew
Old friends niggas claim blue
But I dont gangbang I no color
She lost her son if that was your mother
I sit back in my '92 blue
And I foundations like LULAC
I went to Alma in ward offa Sherman
was back when niggas jammin to Pee Wee Herman
Smokin my teacher but not the preacher
I remember Liz on the bleachers
1986 wasnt hits
I was chasing having bad relationships
Now I fuck bitches fine Haitian bitches
Italian some fucking bang delicious
I went pain to rich and I remain malicious
em up and leave em laying in some strange positions