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
hella big tires skinny like Chris Rock
Ho hold the gun sideways like O
Shoot a n-gga in his face his nose off
Make the girls say my name like call
Pain killers got a n-gga ta doze off
Big shit talk big sh-t n-gga
Big bread bread like a picnic
Shake the whole game like the hit n-gga
Money spread like germs get sick
Yeaa, And them other n-ggas,
1 9 who want I deliver
Concrete shoes wont help in the
I dont if you was Michael Phelps my n-gga
Im higher than the Alps my n-gga
Im flyer than the stealth my n-gga
Young sh-t top shelf my n-gga
We the mothaf-ckas Milf my n-gga

UhUhm, like Syringes
Yea im in my mode got a like Da Vinci
I was in the trenches, now im in the
And everybody watch your back,when in the front
You aint never safe stop 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
Pistol on my hip, Tomb
at your gualla, sue em' later
Young Tune n-gga, n-gga
And if you think 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 a mothaf-cka hunt
Everyday of the is the first of the month
Audemar Piguet with the in the face
Cant tell the time cause the diamonds in the

We can get it like a semi automatic
And if you got I put the biscuit on the patty
Rockstar tatted, big money
Running sh-t now Im feelin athletic
I Im on a boat bitch, sea sick
Stop playin Im fresher then a stick
sh-t, well of course, I smoke mad weed
Im on my high horse, dont shoot me down, i land feet flat
Then walk a million with New Orleans on my back
Haha, I a massage,
and when it come to hoes man I got a
Finger on the button, n-gga stuntin
If you aint the bank teller tell me nuntin
so strong you can smell me coming
B-tch I go like the boy from 300
You think ya kick it,well boy we
Young Money we the sh-t weak stomachs
No Ceilings.Mothaf-cka