Luyện nghe bài hát Ice Cream

Young Money, in the big shot
Time to do the thing, that's word to your wrist
Shoot the til it burn, til my wrist lock
Rims hella big, tires skinny Chris Rock
Hold the gun like O-Dog
Shoot a nigga in his face, knock his off
Make the girls say my like roll call
Pain killers got a nigga to doze off
Big shit, nigga talk big shit,
Big bread: bread like a picnic
Shake the game like the hit-stick nigga
Money spread like germs: get nigga
Yea, and them other niggas
1-900: who it? I deliver
Concrete shoes won't help in the
I don't if you was Michael Phelps my nigga
I'm higher the motherfucking Alps my nigga
I'm flyer than the motherfucking my nigga
Young shit, top-shelf my nigga
We the motherfuckers like my nigga
Ahem, like 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 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 like sprinkles
"Why thank you", if you's a
I'm eating, a waiter
Pistol on my Tomb Raider
Holla at guala, zoom later
Young Tune nigga, typhoon
And if you think sweet, buy a room nigga
Damu
I'm on my shit
She give me good brain she studied at Cambridge
Lighting up a blunt
fruity swag like a motherfucking runt
And I be with my dog a motherfucker hunting
Every day of the is the first of the month
Audemars with the diamonds in the face
Can't tell the time cause the in the face
We can get it like a semi automatic
And if you got beef I put the biscuit on a
Rockstar tatted, addict
Running shit, now I'm feeling athletic
I'm on a boat bitch, getting sea
Stop playing, I'm then a degree stick
Street shit, well, of course I smoke mad
I'm on my high-horse, please don't shoot me down, I land flat
Then walk a million miles with New Orleans on my
Ha, I a massage
And it comes to hoes, man, I got a collage
Finger on the button, nigga just
If you ain't the teller, don't tell me nothin'
Kush so you can smell me comin'
Bitch, I go hard the boy from "300"
You think you it, well boy we puntin'
Young Money baby we the shit weak
No Ceilings