Luyện nghe bài hát Let's Go

It's gravy nigga. it.
You hot? it. Hot as a firecracker.
(It's too.) I got a mac in this bag.
(click clock) you got? Glock. (Look)

Nigga I'ma ya straight off the bat
I got a mac in this bag with 20 grams of
And sit in the back seat of yo' 'Lac
Just in I gotta snap, a firette to the chest
If I know shit, I know cars and broads
I done ordered plenty hits and watched come off
And I done saw my get life behind them bars
To dog hoes, nigga, we scream "fuck 'em all!"
I hard in these city streets
I got my block on with my HB's
Spinnin' Benz in these tops double r
Cook a brick, flip 'em up, now I got 'em
And you can me
Right up in hallways, holdin' and totin'
Got the whole motherfuckin block loaded and
know one thang: its some uptown shit
If a nigga get it fucked, then we killin' a

Nigga I'ma ya this, straight off the bat
I got a mac in this bag, with 20 grams of
let's go nigga, see we can slide nigga
'cause if you hot, then I'm hot, let's nigga
Look, I'ma tell you this, off the top
I got a blunt, and a glock, and a bag of
Let's go nigga, let's slide
If you hot, I'm hot, let's ride nigga

[Lil
Better pay now so you don't forget later
I run the damn block, I oversee all of the
Don't make me ya, play ya
I cock the glock and ya
Call it a caper, be no as-salama-laka
And J, he got the gauges, they and ready
me run up in ya places and pop ya daddy
Got them bricks rocked and heavy, let it be
I cook it and cut 'em in zones and the money be gone
Then I hit a to the dome, and ride when night falls
Supply the white raw, if there's a problem, ya wife off
Lock the down
Respect it young nigga, I'm over
Now cut it with just a little bakin' soda, breakin'
I take it out my holster and bakin' soldiers
Nigga it's whatever, tell ya ma to the reverend
You see me on the with crack, gats, and weed
Rats, plats, and ki's, practically me

[Lil
See I'm a hustler, cut-throat, put rhymes in mom's
You can't even count how times the 9's bust at ya
Some of the, that you run with are, suckas bruh
None of ya, leave, without some bullets up in ya
Niggas can't hold me down, wodie
'cause all that they can hear is loud screamin' and sounds
They show me how to cook that brown and that white
No school, put book back down, pick up that knife
See that's the real I hate to be on tour
I'd be back on the block with a bird of that pure
Niggas got it all wrong, I'm all song
But yall gon' twist it and end up all
cocksuckers, you not thuggers
I pop of glocks, cousins, in my struggle
So stop frontin', it ain't gon' get ya
I'ma start bustin', and hit ya everywhere

x 2

[Baby till end]