Luyện nghe bài hát Latin Throne

f/ Marilyn

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

Uhh....one time baby,

First [SPM]:

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 club in the, alone
So, Mama's don't let babies grow to be gangstas
taught to not give 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,
Utilized all my allies, I run bad guys,
Fuck pea shooters, all my are supersized
I got seven dopehouses, that's a
Man cries if he was blessed a heart,
But I lost mine, in the of South Park
Once again Mister SPM,
And the shit ain't gonna stop I'm dead or in the pen

Chorus [Marilyn
He's a

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

I got scars metal gates and sharp bars
We stars, runnin' from cop cars
you see me in a different crackhead's car
The hood is ours, save my pennies in a jar
So bizarre how so bullets miss my head,
I told my Mom, that I'm gonna with this instead
Fuck the crack rock , I and hit the jackpot
Now I'm on a plane writin' on my
It's all wiggy city to city
But I still feel my catchin' up with me
Got more ends, bought my Mom a Benz,
But she worry 'cause I got all my old friends
that I slow 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 from the music fountain
Who you doubtin'? This round is out the South
The Dopehouse sits in Houston 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,
Niggas wantin' dope still hittin' up my
But we can overcome the even G's without a mother,
Bread without butter, I crawlin' out a gutter
Born hustler, to drive an old gas guzzler,
Servin' zombies, a as big as Gandhi's,
out the hood I was sellin' dope last summer
Now I'm donkey dickin' Brunettes and
Jammin' Jon B., with of Don P.,
The day of the Wetback has upon thee