Luyện nghe bài hát Lay Low

[Verse 1 - Mill]
Bought a new loft, five thousand a month
Bitch my sour is special, hundred a blunt
Only smoke if it's proper, in the words of Big
Rush his ass to the doctors, the sacks and we shot you
Blocka-blocka-bla-blocka, warn his ass with chopper
It'll be a massacre faggot, automatic kicking like
Bottles it's popping, twenty bitches around us
I just 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 they friends
And we just getting started, these wishing we end
Brown on these hoes, niggas fishing again
Notice she swallow with those, drop like it on her
Niggas left me for dead, I'm living again
chopper official, they see my vision again

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

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

[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 at the border
See the brighling, big Bent', I think them is rascist
Call me boy, we be off to the races
And no Smith & Wesson leave you crusain boy
We be up in the clubs, stunting with two boy
Got it popping, mad, they bitches all up in our faces
Got them bottles Rosay, of Patron
All them chicks take to the dome
Hit right here trying to follow me
Shots to his Impala, I'm