Luyện nghe bài hát Lay Low

[Verse 1 - Mill]
a brand new loft, five thousand a month
Bitch my sour is special, hundred a blunt
smoke if it's proper, in the words of Big Poppa
Rush his ass to the doctors, the sacks and we shot you
Blocka-blocka-bla-blocka, his ass with them chopper
It'll be a massacre faggot, kicking like soccer
Bottles popping it's popping, twenty around us
I just slide her the numbers, so if she hit me I 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 haters we end
Brown nose on these hoes, fishing again
she swallow with those, drop like it on her chin
Niggas left me for dead, I'm living again
Special chopper official, they see my vision

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

2 - Young Chris]
Maserati dipping, wrist me a chicken
Neck a Bentley, think I'm finna have a ticket
Got a fetish for Ferraris, and fucking bad
Smoke a nigga like I'm Marley all we is lot of niggas
The mine, Jordan number 9
I came in balling on these niggas a young LeBron
In them bitches, hit them on the lot
Came in with your hoe, your ?
Young Chris, eat a dick, we the shit
We really you just talking about a Stephen Smith
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 -
the makie with bacon, all these rappers be hating
Spit hella facts, hella facts, got me past
To my Canadian fans, had me stuck at the border
See the brighling, big Bent', I think them 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, stunting with two boy
Got it popping, niggas mad, bitches all up in our faces
Got them bottles Rosay, of Patron
All them take shots to the dome
Hit here trying to follow me home
Shots to his Impala, I'm