Luyện nghe bài hát Ice Cream

Young Money, syrup in the big
Time to do the thing, that's word to your watch
the Glock til it burn, til my wrist lock
Rims hella big, tires skinny like Chris
Hold the gun sideways O-Dog
Shoot a nigga in his face, his nose off
Make the girls say my like roll call
killers got a nigga about to doze off
Big shit, nigga big shit, nigga
Big bread: bread like a nigga
Shake the whole game the hit-stick nigga
Money spread like germs: get sick
Yea, and fuck other niggas
1-900: who it? I deliver
shoes won't help in the river
I don't if you was Michael Phelps my nigga
I'm than the motherfucking Alps my nigga
I'm flyer than the motherfucking my nigga
Young Money shit, top-shelf my
We the motherfuckers MILF my nigga
Ahem, flow 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 back when in the front
You ain't never safe, stop playing with a
Bring it to his face and he ran a flanker
Bend the over, put her hands on her ankles
I'm all over this ice beat like sprinkles
"Why thank you", if you's a
I'm eating, a waiter
on my hip: Tomb Raider
Holla at your guala, zoom
Tune nigga, typhoon nigga
And if you think you're sweet, buy a nigga
Damu
I'm on my shit
She give me brain like she studied at Cambridge
Lighting up a blunt
Stupid fruity swag a motherfucking runt
And I be with my dog like a motherfucker
Every day of the week is the first of the
Audemars with the diamonds in the face
Can't tell the cause the diamonds in the face
We can get it popping like a semi
And if you got I put the biscuit on a patty
Rockstar tatted, addict
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 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 a massage
And it comes to hoes, man, I got a collage
Finger on the button, just stuntin'
If you ain't the teller, don't tell me nothin'
Kush so strong you can me comin'
Bitch, I go hard the boy from "300"
You you kick it, well boy we puntin'
Money baby we the shit weak stomachs
No Ceilings