Luyện nghe bài hát Ice Cream Paint Job

Young Money, in the big shot
Time to do the thing thats word to wrist watch
Shoot the glock till it burn till my lock
Rims big tires skinny like Chris Rock
Ho hold the gun sideways like O
Shoot a in his face knock his nose off
Make the girls say my name like roll
Pain killers got a n-gga ta doze off
Big shit n-gga talk big n-gga
Big bread bread a picnic n-gga
Shake the whole game the hit stick n-gga
Money spread like germs get n-gga
Yeaa, And f-ck them n-ggas,
1 9 hundred who I deliver
Concrete wont help in the river
I dont care if you was Michael my n-gga
Im higher than the mothaf-ckin my n-gga
Im than the mothaf-ckin stealth my n-gga
Young sh-t top shelf my n-gga
We the like 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 watch your back,when your in the
You never safe stop playin with a gangsta
Bring it to his face and he ran a flanker
the girl over put her hands on her ankles
Im all over this ice cream beat sprinkles

Why thank you,if you a
Im eatin, yous a
on my hip, Tomb Raider
Holla at gualla, sue em' later
Tune n-gga, typhoon n-gga
And if you think sweet, buy a room n-gga
n-gga, Im on my gang sh-t,
She give me good like she studied at Cambridge
Lightin up a blunt,
stupid fruity swag like a mothaf-ckin
And I be my dog like a mothaf-cka hunt
Everyday of the week is the of the month
Audemar Piguet the diamonds in the face
Cant tell the time the diamonds in the face

We can get it poppin like a semi
And if you got beef I put the biscuit on the
tatted, big money addict
Running this sh-t now Im athletic
I Im on a bitch, gettin sea sick
Stop playin Im fresher then a stick
Street sh-t, well of course, I smoke mad
Im on my high horse, please dont me down, i land feet flat
walk a million miles with New Orleans on my back
Haha, I a massage,
and when it to hoes man I got a collage
Finger on the button, just stuntin
If you aint the bank dont tell me nuntin
Kush so you can smell me coming
B-tch I go hard like the boy 300
You think ya kick it,well boy we
Young Money we the sh-t weak stomachs
No Ceilings.Mothaf-cka