Luyện nghe bài hát Ice Cream

Young Money, syrup in the big
Time to do the thing, that's to your wrist watch
Shoot the Glock til it burn, til my wrist
hella big, tires skinny like Chris Rock
Hold the gun sideways like
Shoot a in his face, knock his nose off
the girls say my name like roll call
Pain killers got a about to doze off
Big shit, nigga talk big shit,
Big bread: bread a picnic nigga
Shake the whole game like the hit-stick
Money spread like germs: get sick
Yea, and fuck other niggas
who want it? I deliver
Concrete shoes won't in the river
I don't care if you was Michael Phelps my
I'm than the motherfucking Alps my nigga
I'm flyer than the motherfucking stealth my
Young shit, top-shelf my nigga
We the like MILF my nigga
Ahem, flow like
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 when you're in the
You ain't safe, stop playing with a gangsta
it to his face and he ran like a flanker
Bend the over, put her hands on her ankles
I'm all over this ice cream beat like
"Why thank you", if you's a
I'm eating, a waiter
on my hip: Tomb Raider
Holla at guala, zoom later
Young Tune nigga, nigga
And if you think you're sweet, buy a room
nigga
I'm on my shit
She give me good brain like she at Cambridge
up a motherfucking 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
Audemars Piguet the diamonds in the face
tell the time cause the diamonds in the face
We can get it popping like a semi
And if you got beef I put the biscuit on a
Rockstar tatted, big-money
Running this shit, now I'm athletic
I'm on a bitch, getting sea sick
Stop playing, I'm fresher a degree stick
Street shit, well, of I smoke mad weed
I'm on my high-horse, please don't shoot me down, I land flat
walk a million miles with New Orleans on my back
Ha, I need a
And it comes to hoes, man, I got a collage
Finger on the button, nigga stuntin'
If you ain't the bank teller, don't tell me
Kush so you can smell me comin'
Bitch, I go like the boy from "300"
You think you it, well boy we puntin'
Young Money baby we the shit stomachs
No Ceilings