Luyện nghe bài hát Lay Low

[Verse 1 - Meek
a brand new loft, five thousand a month
Bitch my sour is special, dollars a blunt
Only smoke if proper, in the words of Big Poppa
Rush his ass to the doctors, took the sacks and we you
Blocka-blocka-bla-blocka, warn his ass with chopper
It'll be a massacre faggot, kicking like soccer
Bottles popping it's popping, bitches around us
I slide her the numbers, so if she hit me I count her
I canary the pinky, hit her right winky
Got the club looking cloudy, for the love of the
In a 600 Benz, a couple bitches friends
And we just getting started, these wishing we end
Brown nose on these hoes, fishing again
Notice she swallow with those, drop like it on her
Niggas left me for dead, bitch I'm living
Special chopper official, see my vision again

[Chorus - Meek Mill & Chris]
it's a party, we see the sparkles, they coming
Standing on couches, surround us, we blunting
We travel the globe, in your town, and run it
And you already know, cuff hoes tonight, we born to run it
Because we paid hoe (Paid hoe)
And all that cream, that paper like the haze hoe
Life's a beach, I'm in the sun with my
the club we take the baddest bitch and lay low
Hey hoe (Hey hoe)
Hey hoe (Hey hoe)
After the club we get the bitch and lay low
Hey hoe (Hey hoe)
Hey hoe (Hey hoe)
After the club we the baddest bitch and lay low

[Verse 2 - Chris]
Maserati dipping, cost me a chicken
Neck a Bentley, think I'm finna have a ticket
Got a fetish for Ferraris, and bad bitches
Smoke a nigga I'm Marley all we know is lot of niggas
The summer's mine, number 9
I came in balling on these like a young LeBron
In front them bitches, hit on the lot
Came in your main hoe, your ?
It's Young Chris, eat a dick, we the
We really balling you just talking about a Stephen
I let my do the talking, I just plead the fifth
I'm on my Metro, just call me if you need a

[Verse 3 -
It's the makie with bacon, all these be hating
Spit hella facts, facts, got me past immigrations
To my Canadian fans, they had me stuck at the
See the brighling, big Bent', I think them bastards is
Call me boy, we be off to the races
And no negating & Wesson leave you crusain boy
We be up in the clubs, stunting two chains boy
Got it popping, mad, they bitches all up in our faces
Got bottles Rosay, shots of Patron
All them chicks take to the dome
Hit right here trying to me home
Shots to his Impala, I'm