Luyện nghe bài hát Ice Cream

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