Luyện nghe bài hát Ice Cream

Young Money, syrup in the big
to do the thing, that's word to your wrist watch
Shoot the Glock til it burn, til my lock
Rims hella big, skinny like Chris Rock
the gun sideways like O-Dog
Shoot a nigga in his face, knock his off
Make the girls say my name like roll
Pain killers got a about to doze off
Big shit, talk big shit, nigga
Big bread like a picnic nigga
the whole game like the hit-stick nigga
Money spread like germs: get nigga
Yea, and fuck them other
who want it? I deliver
Concrete shoes won't 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 stealth my nigga
Young Money shit, my nigga
We the motherfuckers MILF my nigga
Ahem, like syringes
Yea I'm in my mode, got a code like Da
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 with a gangsta
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, a waiter
on my hip: Tomb Raider
Holla at guala, zoom later
Young nigga, typhoon nigga
And if you think you're sweet, buy a nigga
Damu
I'm on my shit
She give me good brain like she at Cambridge
up a motherfucking blunt
Stupid fruity swag a motherfucking runt
And I be with my dog like a motherfucker
Every day of the is the first of the month
Audemars with the diamonds in the face
Can't tell the time cause the diamonds in the
We can get it popping like a automatic
And if you got beef I put the on a patty
Rockstar tatted, big-money
Running this shit, now I'm athletic
I'm on a boat bitch, getting sea
Stop playing, I'm fresher a degree stick
Street shit, well, of course I mad weed
I'm on my high-horse, please don't shoot me down, I feet flat
Then a million miles with New Orleans on my back
Ha, I need a
And when it comes to hoes, man, I got a
Finger on the button, nigga stuntin'
If you ain't the bank teller, don't me nothin'
Kush so strong you can me comin'
Bitch, I go hard the boy from "300"
You think you it, well boy we puntin'
Young Money baby we the shit stomachs
No Ceilings