Luyện nghe bài hát Lay Low

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

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

[Verse 2 - Young
Maserati dipping, wrist cost me a
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, number 9
I came in balling on these niggas a young LeBron
In front bitches, hit them on the lot
Came in your main hoe, your ?
Young Chris, eat a dick, we the shit
We balling you just 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 with bacon, all these rappers be hating
Spit hella facts, hella facts, got me past
To my fans, they had me stuck at the border
See the brighling, big Bent', I them bastards is rascist
me Hussain boy, we be off to the races
And no Smith & Wesson leave you crusain boy
We be up in the clubs, stunting two chains boy
Got it popping, niggas mad, they bitches all up in our
Got them bottles Rosay, of Patron
All them chicks take to the dome
Hit here trying to follow me home
to his Impala, I'm gone