Luyện nghe bài hát Ice Cream Paint Job

Young Money, in the big shot
to do the thing thats word to your wrist watch
Shoot the glock till it till my wrist lock
Rims hella big skinny like Chris Rock
Ho the gun sideways like O dogg
Shoot a n-gga in his face knock his off
Make the girls say my name roll call
Pain killers got a bout ta doze off
Big shit n-gga talk big n-gga
Big bread bread like a n-gga
Shake the game like 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 shoes wont help in the
I dont care if you was Michael my n-gga
Im than the mothaf-ckin Alps my n-gga
Im flyer the mothaf-ckin stealth my n-gga
Young Money top shelf my n-gga
We the mothaf-ckas like Milf my

UhUhm, Flow like
Yea im in my mode got a code like Da
I was in the trenches, now im in the
And everybody watch back,when your in the front
You aint safe stop playin with a gangsta
Bring it to his and he ran like a flanker
Bend the girl over put her on her ankles
Im all over this ice beat like sprinkles

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

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