Luyện nghe bài hát In The Trunk

on
Where they at, where they at, they at

I tapes every day me and Freddy B
famous since 1983
Give me ten dollars, and you straight get
A rap all you called the special request
Oakland, you know I go way
To coug nuts, fal stangs, and
When homeboys put on any car
With 6 by 9's burners
Everybody got addicted to my beat
Whole town fucked around and smoking D
Every rap I made was about this town
I 7 whole albums with no James Brown
And even I love his music, I just can't stand
The way used it all up and didn't pay the man
And after 2 albums, you call me weak
Cause I sell records in the East
Now funky, I say pussy on an old hoe
I guess y'all fools know
Why some good rappers can't sell no
It's not the company's fault, the shit fake
You be in the trunk, with the booming box
the young bitches ride on your jock
You can't do it like homey, so just pass it
And kissing them white folks asses
It's like you a whole damn key
You rap so fast you keep leaving the
I'm from the old school, I love
But now rap music is all that they
So when I'm in my car, I Clinton
And when I'm on the stage I start
And when I your shit, I push eject
I throw it out the window with the rejects
And the hard core rappers go soft
I to watch when they ass fall off
Cause ain't worth kicking like a sucka MC
And any other ever talk about me
I stop rapping, that's all they can say
And how I dogg bitches, day
But if you can't be a dogg, you're weak
You be phony like a side show
Some try to come off positive
Where I'm from that just how it is
They say rap is here to stay
But the sucka don't think that way
It 8 long years before I got my break
So I wonder why rapper's fake ass tapes
You won't get like I did, so give up punk
And while in the studio, I'm in the trunk
You got no choice, so flip that coin
This ain't the military, so you punks can't
It ain't pop, it's called rap
From Oakland California and the sounds phat
I'm spitting to my motherfucking homies
why they listen to the one and only
I used to be broke, but now we all to be
Got no for a bitch, all the game is for me
And these bitches, can't say to me
They could could fuck with Short baby
I'm not a tounge twisting with a funny style
Don't dress hip hop and dance real
But I do records like a motherfucker
Even you might I'm just another sucka
I find the beat and then never
Grab the microphone and call you a bitch
You want money, I got pimp money
One for sure, I won't give it to a hoe
I throw a bitch in the god trunk
And start slamming Oakland funk
Short Dogg's in the house, again
Trying to fade the platnum, with Shorty the
And when I do, I'm going straight to the
Withdraw money and buy some dank
You can't to my motherfucking homies
why they listen to the one and only
I grew up on the funk P
But motherfuckers growing up on me
And if I ego trip, and my is fucked
I my ass back, to where I grew up
And get real boy, never too late
Before I do like you and make a ass tape
I'm in the

In the trunk, in, in the
In the trunk, in, in the
In the beating down the block

In the trunk, in, in the
In the trunk, in, in the
In the trunk down the block