Luyện nghe bài hát It's Good

I'm as real as come, I follow the rules
I'm still in the hood but I should move
Made enough money, I f-ck around
I felt they needed me, so I stuck around
Feds got my man, is real son
Cause my god son became my real son
life is a game but all you get is a turn
You and you learn, either you freeze or you burn
in the air, I'm pushing the gears
Love turned hate, hate turned into fear
If it aint right, I don't the deal
Shoot me in the watch, I got time to
Gasoline, propane, aint no salary cap in the game
no collective bargaining on cocaine
So in other words nigga, do your

Mind in one place, in another
Please pardon my
just angry at you niggas who dont have your heart in your rap shit
And got too f-ckin comfy, cause we f-ckin hungry
Young Money, got the
Faded, faded, aww yeah im f-ckin faded
They tellin' lies me, aww yeah i must've made it
Rikers on this flow, 8 months for that pistol
But at least they had some bad bitches in that shit hole
Ahhh, 3 visits later, I went and did it
So f-ck the judge, and the jury, and the
Watchin all these who thought they had it figured out
And then November came, let my nigga out

[Lil
Stop playin, I aint that bullshit
Niggas act bitches. Shanaynay, oh my goodness
is Wayne's World, and y'all are just some tourists
Give me wishes, I wish, I wish, I wish, you would bitch
Brand new p-ssy, good as baby powder
Two glock 40s, nigga you got 80
Swimmin' in the money, need some f-ckin goggles
Its to give, but we dont give a f-ck about 'em
I just home, shit then got real hoe
Lil Weezy-ana, the nigga, steal toe
I aint workin with a full deck but I hoe
I touched down, kick the motherf-ckin field goal
Talkin 'bout baby money? I got baby money
Kidnap your bitch, get 'how much you love your lady' money
I know you fake nigga, press your brakes
take you out, that's a date nigga
Im a grown ass blood, stop playin me
asshole and get an ass whippin'
I think you pussy cat ha, hello
I just throw the alley-oop to Drake
I lay em down,
This shits a game of chess, you niggas think its
Its money, yeah 'tis the season
I give you the business, bitch a business meeting
My hungry, my bitches greedy
I die a bloody murder? Dear Mr. Ouija
Nigga, Im straight, my girl a
Potato on the barrel, pop pop tater