Luyện nghe bài hát Let's Go

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

Nigga I'ma tell ya off the bat
I got a mac in this bag with 20 of crack
And I'ma sit in the back of yo' 'Lac
Just in case I gotta snap, a to the chest
If I don't know shit, I know cars and
I ordered plenty hits and watched heads come off
And I done saw my nigga get life behind bars
To dog hoes, nigga, we scream "fuck 'em all!"
I hustle hard in city streets
I got my block on fire my HB's
Spinnin' Benz in these drop tops r
Cook a brick, 'em up, now I got 'em hard
And you can me
Right up in them hallways, and totin'
Got the whole block loaded and smokin'
Nigga one thang: its some uptown shit
If a get it fucked, then we killin' a bitch

Nigga I'ma tell ya this, off the bat
I got a mac in this bag, with 20 grams of
Well go nigga, see we can slide nigga
'cause if you hot, then I'm hot, ride nigga
Look, I'ma you this, straight 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

Wayne]
Better pay attention now so you forget later
I run the damn block, I all of the paper
Don't make me take ya, ya
I the glock and spray 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 and heavy, let it be known
I cook it hard and cut 'em in zones and the 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
the spot down
Respect it nigga, I'm creepin' over
Now cut it just a little bakin' soda, breakin' boulders
I take it out my holster and bakin' soldiers
Nigga whatever, tell ya ma to call the reverend
You see me on the block 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 many the 9's bust at ya
Some of the, that you run with are, suckas bruh
None of ya, won't leave, some bullets up in ya
can't hold me down, wodie wild
'cause all they can hear is loud screamin' and explosive sounds
They show me how to cook that brown and that white
No school, put that book back down, pick up knife
See the real reason I hate to be on tour
I'd rather be back on the block a bird of that pure
Niggas got it all wrong, I'm all song
But yall twist it and end up all gone
Dog-gone cocksuckers, you not
I pop of glocks, cousins, in my struggle
So stop frontin', it ain't gon' get ya
I'ma start bustin', and bullets hit ya

x 2

[Baby till end]