Luyện nghe bài hát Ice Cream Paint Job

Young Money, in the big shot
Time to do the thing thats to your wrist watch
Shoot the till it burn till my wrist lock
Rims hella big tires skinny like Rock
Ho the gun sideways like O dogg
a n-gga in his face knock his nose off
Make the girls say my like roll call
Pain killers got a n-gga ta doze off
Big shit n-gga talk big sh-t
Big bread like a picnic n-gga
Shake the whole game like the hit n-gga
Money spread like germs get sick
Yeaa, And them other n-ggas,
1 9 hundred who I deliver
Concrete shoes wont help in the
I dont care if you was Phelps my n-gga
Im higher than the Alps my n-gga
Im flyer the mothaf-ckin stealth my n-gga
Young sh-t top shelf my n-gga
We the mothaf-ckas Milf my n-gga

UhUhm, Flow like
Yea im in my mode got a like Da Vinci
I was in the trenches, now im in the
And everybody watch back,when your in the front
You aint never stop playin with a gangsta
it to his face and he ran like a flanker
Bend the girl over put her hands on her
Im all over this ice cream like sprinkles

Why you,if you a hater
Im eatin, a waiter
Pistol on my hip, Tomb
Holla at your gualla, sue em'
Young n-gga, typhoon n-gga
And if you your sweet, buy a room n-gga
n-gga, Im on my gang sh-t,
She me good brain like she studied at Cambridge
up a mothaf-cking blunt,
stupid swag like a mothaf-ckin runt
And I be with my dog like a hunt
of the week is the first of the month
Audemar Piguet with the in the face
Cant tell the cause the diamonds in the face

We can get it poppin a semi automatic
And if you got I put the biscuit on the patty
tatted, big money addict
Running this sh-t now Im athletic
I Im on a bitch, gettin sea sick
Stop playin Im then a degree stick
sh-t, well of course, I smoke mad weed
Im on my horse, please dont shoot me down, i land feet flat
Then walk a miles with New Orleans on my back
Haha, I a massage,
and when it come to man I got a collage
on the button, n-gga just stuntin
If you aint the bank teller dont me nuntin
so strong you can smell me coming
B-tch I go hard like the boy 300
You think ya it,well boy we puntin
Young Money baby we the sh-t stomachs
No Ceilings.Mothaf-cka