Luyện nghe bài hát Latin Throne

f/ Rylander

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

Uhh....one time baby,

First Verse

Land of dum-dum, is where I come
Believe me I tell 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 grow to be gangstas
taught 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 are supersized
I got dopehouses, that's a franchise
Man if he was blessed with a heart,
But I lost mine, in the of South Park
Once it's Mister SPM,
And the shit gonna stop until I'm dead or in the pen

[Marilyn Rylander]:
He's a

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

I got scars jumpin' metal and sharp bars
We shootin' stars, runnin' cop cars
Everyday you see me in a crackhead's car
The is ours, save my pennies in a pickle jar
So bizarre how so many miss my head,
I told my Mom, that I'm gonna with this instead
Fuck the crack , I rapped and hit the jackpot
Now I'm on a writin' on my laptop
It's all wiggy rockin' to city
But I feel 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' that I slow up and one day,
But these streets got me raised one way
I my lady one day we gone be like the Brady's
But for now I teach her how to use three eighty

Third [SPM]:

Three years and countin', I've been drinkin' from the fountain
Who you doubtin'? round is comin' out the South
The sits in Houston like a fuckin' mountain,
I got non-believers they foot in they mouth
I break guinesses, 'em off my premises,
Used to be menaces, now our dreams
this a trip? Not a slipper or a sleeper,
Niggas wantin' still hittin' up my beeper
But we can overcome the ghetto 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 I was sellin' dope last summer
Now I'm dickin' Brunettes and Blondies
Jammin' Jon B., with of Don P.,
The day of the Wetback has striked thee