Luyện nghe bài hát Latin Throne

f/ Rylander

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

Uhh....one baby, yeah

First [SPM]:

of dum-dum, is where I come from
Believe me when I you that you don't want none son
A long, hard road for this, throne
You can catch me in the in the, back alone
So, Mama's don't let your babies to be gangstas
Killas to not give a fuck, hit em up with sign 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 gats are
I got dopehouses, that's a franchise
Man cries if he was with a heart,
But I lost mine, in the backstreets of South
Once again it's SPM,
And the shit ain't gonna until I'm dead or in the pen

Chorus [Marilyn
a hustler

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

I got scars jumpin' gates and sharp bars
We stars, runnin' 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 bullets miss my head,
I told my Mom, that I'm stick with this instead
Fuck the crack rock , I rapped and hit the
Now I'm on a writin' on my laptop
It's all wiggy city to city
But I still feel my past up with me
Got ends, bought my Mom a Gold Benz,
But she worry 'cause I got all my old friends
that 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 teach her how to use three eighty

Third Verse

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