Luyện nghe bài hát Ice Cream

Young Money, syrup in the big
Time to do the thing, that's word to wrist watch
Shoot the Glock til it burn, til my wrist
Rims big, tires skinny like Chris Rock
the gun sideways like O-Dog
Shoot a nigga in his face, his nose off
Make the girls say my name roll call
Pain killers got a nigga to doze off
Big shit, nigga talk big shit,
Big bread: bread like a picnic
Shake the whole game like the nigga
Money spread like germs: get sick
Yea, and fuck other niggas
1-900: who it? I deliver
Concrete won't help in the river
I don't care if you was Michael Phelps my
I'm higher the motherfucking Alps my nigga
I'm flyer the motherfucking stealth my nigga
Money shit, top-shelf my nigga
We the motherfuckers like MILF my
Ahem, flow syringes
Yea I'm in my mode, got a code Da Vinci's
I was in the trenches, now I'm in the
And everybody watch your back when in the front
You never safe, stop playing with a gangsta
Bring it to his face and he ran like a
Bend the girl over, put her on her ankles
I'm all over this ice cream beat sprinkles
"Why thank you", if a hater
I'm eating, you's a
Pistol on my Tomb Raider
Holla at your guala, later
Tune nigga, typhoon nigga
And if you think sweet, buy a room nigga
nigga
I'm on my gang
She give me good brain she studied at Cambridge
Lighting up a blunt
Stupid swag like a motherfucking runt
And I be with my dog like a motherfucker
Every day of the week is the first of the
Piguet with the diamonds in the face
Can't tell the time cause the diamonds in the
We can get it popping a semi automatic
And if you got beef I put the on a patty
Rockstar tatted, addict
Running shit, now I'm feeling athletic
I'm on a boat bitch, getting sea
Stop playing, I'm fresher then a degree
Street shit, well, of I smoke mad weed
I'm on my high-horse, please don't shoot me down, I feet flat
walk a million miles with New Orleans on my back
Ha, I a massage
And when it comes to hoes, man, I got a
Finger on the button, nigga just
If you ain't the bank teller, tell me nothin'
Kush so strong you can me comin'
Bitch, I go hard like the boy "300"
You think you kick it, boy we puntin'
Young Money baby we the weak stomachs
No Ceilings