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
Rims big, tires skinny like Chris Rock
Hold the gun sideways O-Dog
a nigga in his face, knock his nose off
Make the girls say my name roll call
Pain killers got a nigga about to off
Big shit, talk big shit, nigga
Big bread: bread a picnic nigga
Shake the whole game like the hit-stick
Money like germs: get sick nigga
Yea, and fuck them other
who want it? I deliver
Concrete shoes help in the river
I don't care if you was Michael my nigga
I'm higher than the motherfucking my nigga
I'm flyer than the motherfucking my nigga
Young Money shit, top-shelf my
We the motherfuckers like my nigga
Ahem, flow like
Yea I'm in my mode, got a code like Da
I was in the trenches, now I'm in the
And everybody your back when you're in the front
You ain't never safe, playing with a gangsta
Bring it to his and he ran like a flanker
the girl 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, you's a
Pistol on my hip: Tomb
Holla at guala, zoom later
Young nigga, typhoon nigga
And if you you're sweet, buy a room nigga
nigga
I'm on my shit
She give me brain like she studied at Cambridge
Lighting up a blunt
fruity swag like a motherfucking runt
And I be with my dog like a motherfucker
Every day of the is the first of the month
Audemars Piguet with the in the face
Can't tell the time the diamonds in the face
We can get it popping like a semi
And if you got beef I put the on a patty
Rockstar tatted, big-money
this shit, now I'm feeling athletic
I'm on a boat bitch, sea sick
Stop playing, I'm fresher then a degree
shit, well, of course I smoke mad weed
I'm on my high-horse, please don't shoot me down, I feet flat
Then walk a million miles with New on my back
Ha, I a massage
And it comes to hoes, man, I got a collage
Finger on the button, nigga stuntin'
If you ain't the teller, don't tell me nothin'
Kush so strong you can me comin'
Bitch, I go hard like the boy "300"
You you kick it, well boy we puntin'
Young Money we the shit weak stomachs
No Ceilings