Luyện nghe bài hát Lay Low

[Verse 1 - Meek
Bought a brand new loft, thousand a month
Bitch my sour is special, dollars a blunt
Only 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
It'll be a massacre faggot, automatic like soccer
popping 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 like
Got the looking cloudy, for the love of the stinky
In a 600 Benz, a bitches they friends
And we just started, these haters wishing we end
Brown nose on these hoes, fishing again
Notice she with those, drop like it on her chin
Niggas left me for dead, bitch I'm living
Special chopper official, they see my again

[Chorus - Mill & Young Chris]
it's a party, we see the sparkles, they coming
Standing on couches, bitches surround us, we
We travel the globe, stop in town, and run it
And you already know, cuff hoes tonight, we born to run it
we motherfucking paid hoe (Paid hoe)
And all that cream, blow that paper like the hoe
Life's a beach, I'm in the sun my shades
After the club we take the 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 the baddest bitch and lay low

2 - Young Chris]
Maserati dipping, wrist cost me a
Neck cost a Bentley, think I'm finna have a
Got a fetish for Ferraris, and fucking bad
a nigga like I'm Marley all we know is lot of niggas
The summer's mine, number 9
I came in balling on these like a young LeBron
In them bitches, hit them on the lot
Came in with your hoe, your ?
It's Young Chris, eat a dick, we the
We really balling you just talking about a Smith
I let my do the talking, I just plead the fifth
I'm on my Metro, just me if you need a brick

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