Luyện nghe bài hát Latin Throne

f/ Marilyn

Ain't no stoppin' this movement...gotta with it

Uhh....one time baby,

Verse [SPM]:

Land of dum-dum, is I come from
Believe me I tell you that you don't want none son
A long, hard road for this, latin
You can me in the club in the, back alone
So, don't let your babies grow to be gangstas
Killas taught to not give a fuck, hit em up with language,
I'm just how the game is
Reach for the stainless, 'em brainless,
The strangest of come to me at no surprise,
all my allies, I run with bad guys,
Fuck pea shooters, all my are supersized
I got seven dopehouses, a franchise
Man cries if he was blessed a heart,
But I lost mine, in the backstreets of Park
again it's Mister SPM,
And the shit gonna stop until I'm dead or in the pen

Chorus [Marilyn
a hustler

He's a
He on the
Throne
He on the
He's a
He's a
Second Verse
Latin

I got scars metal gates and sharp bars
We shootin' stars, from cop cars
Everyday you see me in a crackhead's car
The hood is ours, my pennies in a pickle jar
So bizarre how so many miss my head,
I told my Mom, that I'm gonna stick with this
Fuck the crack rock , I rapped and hit the
Now I'm on a plane writin' on my
It's all wiggy city to city
But I still feel my catchin' up with me
Got ends, bought my Mom a Gold Benz,
But she worry 'cause I still got all my old
Hopin' I slow up and change one day,
But these streets got me raised one way
I told my lady one day we be like the Brady's
But for now I teach her how to use this eighty

Third Verse

Three years and countin', I've drinkin' from the music fountain
Who you doubtin'? This round is comin' out the
The sits in Houston like a fuckin' mountain,
I got non-believers they foot in they mouth
I break guinesses, 'em off my premises,
to be menaces, now our dreams limitless
Isn't this a trip? Not a or a sleeper,
wantin' dope still hittin' up my beeper
But we can overcome the even G's without a mother,
Bread without butter, I came out a gutter
hustler, used to drive an old gas guzzler,
Servin' zombies, a as big as Gandhi's,
out the hood I was sellin' dope last summer
Now I'm donkey Brunettes and Blondies
Jammin' Jon B., bottles of Don P.,
The day of the Wetback has striked thee