Luyện nghe bài hát Lay Low

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

[Chorus - Mill & Young Chris]
it's a party, we see the sparkles, they coming
Standing on couches, surround us, we blunting
We travel the globe, stop in town, and run it
And you already know, cuff them hoes tonight, we to run it
we motherfucking paid hoe (Paid hoe)
And all that cream, blow that 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 baddest and lay low
Hey hoe (Hey hoe)
Hey hoe (Hey hoe)
the club we take the baddest bitch and lay low

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

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