Luyện nghe bài hát Ice Cream Paint Job

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

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

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

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 now Im feelin athletic
I Im on a bitch, gettin sea sick
Stop playin Im then a degree stick
Street sh-t, well of course, I smoke mad
Im on my high horse, please dont shoot me down, i feet flat
Then walk a million miles New Orleans on my back
Haha, I a massage,
and it come to hoes man I got a collage
Finger on the button, just stuntin
If you the bank teller dont tell me nuntin
so strong you can smell me coming
B-tch I go like the boy from 300
You ya kick it,well boy we puntin
Young Money we the sh-t weak stomachs
No Ceilings.Mothaf-cka