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 lock
hella big, tires skinny like Chris Rock
Hold the gun like O-Dog
Shoot a nigga in his face, his nose off
Make the girls say my name like call
Pain got a nigga about to doze off
Big shit, nigga talk big shit,
Big bread: bread like a nigga
Shake the whole game like the hit-stick
Money like germs: get sick nigga
Yea, and fuck them other
1-900: who want it? I
Concrete shoes 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 like MILF 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 back when you're in the front
You ain't never safe, stop playing with a
Bring it to his face and he ran like a
the girl over, put her hands on her ankles
I'm all this ice cream beat like sprinkles
"Why thank you", if you's a
I'm eating, you's a
on my hip: Tomb Raider
Holla at guala, zoom later
Tune nigga, typhoon nigga
And if you think you're sweet, buy a room
nigga
I'm on my gang
She me good brain like she studied at Cambridge
Lighting up a motherfucking
Stupid fruity swag like a runt
And I be my dog like a motherfucker hunting
Every day of the week is the first of the
Audemars Piguet with the diamonds in the
Can't tell the time cause the diamonds in the
We can get it popping like a automatic
And if you got I put the biscuit on a patty
Rockstar tatted, big-money
this shit, now I'm feeling athletic
I'm on a bitch, getting sea sick
playing, I'm fresher then 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 miles New Orleans on my back
Ha, I need a
And when it comes to hoes, man, I got a
Finger on the button, just stuntin'
If you ain't the bank teller, 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 weak stomachs
No motherfucker