Luyện nghe bài hát Latin Throne

f/ Rylander

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

Uhh....one time baby,

Verse [SPM]:

Land of dum-dum, is where I come
Believe me when I tell you that you want none son
A long, road for this, latin throne
You can catch me in the club in the, alone
So, Mama's don't let your babies grow to be
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 are supersized
I got seven dopehouses, that's a
Man cries if he was with 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 Rylander]:
a hustler

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

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

Third [SPM]:

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