Luyện nghe bài hát Latin Throne

f/ Marilyn

no stoppin' this movement...gotta roll with it

Uhh....one time baby,

First Verse

of dum-dum, is where I come from
Believe me when I you that you don't want none son
A long, hard for this, latin throne
You can catch me in the club in the, alone
So, Mama's let your babies grow to be gangstas
Killas taught to not a fuck, hit em up with sign language,
I'm just explainin' how the is
for the stainless, leave 'em brainless,
The of things come to me at no surprise,
all my allies, I run with bad guys,
Fuck pea shooters, all my gats are
I got seven dopehouses, a franchise
Man cries if he was with a heart,
But I mine, in the backstreets of South Park
again it's Mister SPM,
And the ain't gonna stop until I'm dead or in the pen

Chorus Rylander]:
He's a

He's a
He on the
Latin
He on the
a hustler
He's a
Second [SPM]:
Latin

I got scars jumpin' metal and sharp bars
We stars, runnin' from cop cars
Everyday you see me in a different car
The is ours, save my pennies in a pickle jar
So bizarre how so many bullets my head,
I told my Mom, I'm gonna stick with this instead
Fuck the rock , I rapped and hit the jackpot
Now I'm on a writin' on my laptop
It's all wiggy rockin' to city
But I still my past catchin' up with me
Got more ends, bought my Mom a Benz,
But she 'cause I still got all my old friends
Hopin' I slow up and change one day,
But these Hillwood got me raised one way
I told my one day we gone be like the Brady's
But for now I her how to use this three eighty

Third [SPM]:

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