Luyện nghe bài hát In The Trunk

on
Where they at, where they at, they at

I sold tapes every day me and B
Been famous 1983
me ten dollars, and you straight get blessed
A rap all about you called the request
Oakland, you I go way back
To coug nuts, fal stangs, and
When homeboys put on any car
With 6 by 9's smoking
Everybody got addicted to my beat
Whole town fucked around and started D
rap I ever made was about this town
I 7 whole albums with no James Brown
And even though I love his music, I can't stand
The way they used it all up and pay the man
And after 2 platnum albums, you call me
Cause I sell records in the East
Now funky, I say pussy on an old hoe
I y'all fools don't know
Why some good rappers can't no tapes
It's not the company's fault, the shit fake
You be in the trunk, with the booming box
While the young bitches ride on your
You can't do it this homey, so just pass it
And stop kissing white folks asses
It's like you a whole damn key
You rap so fast you keep the beat
I'm the old school, I love P-Funk
But now rap is all that they want
So when I'm in my car, I Clinton
And when I'm on the stage I pimping
And when I hear your shit, I push
I throw it out the window with the rejects
And when the hard core rappers go
I like to watch they ass fall off
Cause ain't nothing worth kicking a sucka MC
And any other rappers ever about me
I don't stop rapping, that's all can say
And how I bitches, every day
But if you be a dogg, then you're weak
You be phony like a side show
Some try to come off positive
Where I'm that just ain't how it is
They say rap music is to stay
But the sucka don't think that way
It took 8 years before I got my break
So I wonder why make fake ass tapes
You won't get like I did, so give up punk
And while your in the studio, I'm in the
You got no choice, so don't that coin
This the military, so you punks can't join
It ain't pop, called underground rap
Oakland California and the shit sounds phat
I'm spitting raps to my homies
That's why they listen to the one and
I used to be broke, but now we all to be
Got no game for a bitch, all the is for me
And these bitches, can't say to me
They could never could with Short baby
I'm not a tounge twisting rapper a funny style
dress hip hop and dance real wild
But I do records like a motherfucker
Even you might I'm just another sucka
I find the and then never switch
the microphone and then call you a bitch
You rent money, I got pimp money
One thing's for sure, I give it to a hoe
I throw a bitch in the god trunk
And start slamming that Oakland
Short Dogg's in the house, once
Trying to fade the platnum, with the Pimp
And when I do, I'm going to the bank
Withdraw money and buy some dank
You can't to my motherfucking homies
That's why they to the one and only
I up on the funk called P
But motherfuckers growing up on me
And if I ego trip, and my head is
I take my ass back, to where I up
And get real boy, it's too late
I do like you and make a weak ass tape
I'm in the

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

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