Luyện nghe bài hát Lay Low

[Verse 1 - Mill]
Bought a brand new loft, thousand a month
Bitch my sour is special, hundred dollars a
smoke if it's 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 them
be a massacre faggot, automatic kicking like soccer
Bottles it's popping, twenty bitches around us
I just slide her the numbers, so if she hit me I her
I the pinky, hit her right like winky
Got the club cloudy, for the love of the stinky
In a 600 Benz, a couple bitches friends
And we getting started, these haters wishing we end
Brown nose on these hoes, fishing again
Notice she swallow those, drop like it on her chin
Niggas me for dead, bitch 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, bitches us, we blunting
We travel the globe, in your town, and run it
And you already know, cuff them tonight, we born to run it
we motherfucking 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 the baddest bitch 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 we take the baddest bitch and lay low

[Verse 2 - Young
Maserati dipping, wrist me a chicken
Neck cost a Bentley, think I'm have a ticket
Got a for Ferraris, and fucking bad bitches
a nigga like I'm Marley all we know 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 your main hoe, your ?
It's Chris, eat a dick, we the shit
We really balling you just talking about a Stephen
I let my money do the talking, I 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 fans, they had me stuck at the border
See the brighling, big Bent', I think them 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 all up in our faces
Got them Rosay, shots of Patron
All them chicks shots to the dome
Hit right here to follow me home
to his Impala, I'm gone