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 hella big, tires skinny like Rock
Hold the gun sideways O-Dog
Shoot a nigga in his face, knock his off
Make the girls say my name roll call
Pain killers got a about to doze off
Big shit, nigga big shit, nigga
Big bread: bread a picnic nigga
the whole game like the hit-stick nigga
Money spread like germs: get nigga
Yea, and fuck them niggas
who want it? I deliver
Concrete shoes help in the river
I don't care if you was Michael Phelps my
I'm than the motherfucking Alps my nigga
I'm flyer the motherfucking stealth my nigga
Money shit, top-shelf my nigga
We the motherfuckers like my nigga
Ahem, like 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 when you're in the front
You ain't safe, stop playing with a gangsta
Bring it to his face and he ran a flanker
Bend the girl over, put her hands on her
I'm all over this ice beat like sprinkles
"Why thank you", if you's a
I'm eating, you's a
on my hip: Tomb Raider
Holla at your guala, zoom
Tune nigga, typhoon nigga
And if you you're sweet, buy a room nigga
nigga
I'm on my shit
She give me good like she studied at Cambridge
Lighting up a blunt
Stupid fruity swag like a 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 the time cause the diamonds in the face
We can get it popping like a automatic
And if you got I put the biscuit on a patty
Rockstar tatted, addict
Running shit, now I'm feeling athletic
I'm on a bitch, getting sea sick
Stop playing, I'm fresher a degree stick
Street shit, well, of course I smoke mad
I'm on my high-horse, please shoot me down, I land feet flat
Then walk a million with New Orleans on my back
Ha, I a massage
And when it to hoes, man, I got a collage
Finger on the button, nigga just
If you ain't the bank teller, tell me nothin'
so strong you can smell me comin'
Bitch, I go hard like the boy "300"
You think you kick it, well boy we
Young Money we the shit weak stomachs
No Ceilings