Luyện nghe bài hát Latin Throne

f/ Rylander

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

Uhh....one baby, yeah

First [SPM]:

Land of dum-dum, is I come from
Believe me when I tell you that you don't none son
A long, hard road for this, throne
You can catch me in the club in the, back
So, Mama's don't let your babies grow to be
taught to not give a fuck, hit em up with sign language,
I'm explainin' how the game is
for the stainless, leave '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 seven dopehouses, a franchise
Man cries if he was blessed 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

[Marilyn Rylander]:
He's a

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

I got scars jumpin' metal and sharp bars
We stars, runnin' from cop cars
you see me in a different crackhead's car
The is ours, save my pennies in a pickle jar
So how so many bullets miss my head,
I told my Mom, that I'm gonna stick this instead
Fuck the crack rock , I rapped and hit the
Now I'm on a plane on my laptop
It's all wiggy rockin' city to
But I still feel my catchin' up with me
Got more ends, my Mom a Gold Benz,
But she worry 'cause I still got all my old
Hopin' that I up and change one day,
But Hillwood 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 this eighty

Third [SPM]:

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