Luyện nghe bài hát In The Trunk

on
Where they at, where they at, where at

I sold tapes every day me and B
Been famous since
Give me ten dollars, and you get blessed
A rap all you called the special request
Oakland, you know I go way
To coug nuts, fal stangs, and
homeboys put vogues on any car
With 6 by 9's smoking
Everybody got addicted to my dopefiend
Whole fucked around and started smoking D
Every rap I ever made was about this
I made 7 albums with no James Brown
And even though I love his music, I just stand
The way they it all up and didn't pay the man
And after 2 platnum albums, you me weak
Cause I don't records in the East
Now funky, I say pussy on an old hoe
I guess fools don't know
Why good rappers can't sell no tapes
It's not the fault, the shit sounds fake
You wanna be in the trunk, with the box
While the bitches ride on your jock
You do it like this homey, so just pass it
And stop kissing them folks asses
It's like you a whole damn key
You rap so fast you leaving the beat
I'm the old school, I love P-Funk
But now rap is all that they want
So I'm in my car, I play Clinton
And when I'm on the stage I pimping
And when I hear your shit, I push
Then I throw it out the with the rejects
And the hard core rappers go soft
I like to watch they ass fall off
Cause ain't nothing worth like a sucka MC
And any rappers ever talk about me
I don't stop rapping, all they can say
And how I dogg bitches, day
But if you be a dogg, then you're weak
You be phony like a side freak
Some try to come off positive
Where I'm from that just how it is
say rap music is here to stay
But the sucka MC's think that way
It took 8 long before I got my break
So I wonder why rapper's make fake ass
You won't get like I did, so give up punk
And your in the studio, I'm in the trunk
You got no choice, so don't that coin
ain't the military, so you punks can't join
It ain't pop, it's called rap
From Oakland and the shit sounds phat
I'm spitting raps to my homies
That's why they to the one and only
I to be broke, but now we all used to be
Got no game for a bitch, all the is for me
And these bitches, can't say to me
They could never fuck with Short baby
I'm not a tounge twisting rapper with a funny
Don't hip hop and dance real wild
But I do records like a motherfucker
Even though you I'm just another sucka
I find the beat and never switch
the microphone and then 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 damn
And start slamming Oakland funk
Dogg's in the house, once 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 relate to my homies
That's why listen to the one and only
I up on the funk called P
But these motherfuckers up on me
And if I ego trip, and my is fucked
I take my ass back, to where I 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 beating the block