Luyện nghe bài hát Let's Go

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

Nigga tell ya straight 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 firette to the
If I don't know shit, I cars and broads
I done ordered plenty hits and heads come off
And I done saw my nigga get behind them bars
To them dog hoes, nigga, we "fuck 'em all!"
I hustle in these city streets
I got my on fire with my HB's
Spinnin' Benz in these drop 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
Nigga know one thang: its some uptown
If a get it fucked, then we killin' a bitch

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

[Lil
Better pay now so you don't forget later
I run the damn block, I oversee all of the
make me take ya, play ya
I cock the and spray ya
Call it a caper, be no as-salama-laka
And J, he got the gauges, they and ready
Make me run up in ya places and pop ya
Got them rocked and heavy, let it be known
I cook it hard and cut 'em in 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
it young nigga, I'm creepin' over
Now cut it with just a bakin' soda, breakin' boulders
I take it out my holster and bakin' soldiers
Nigga it's whatever, tell ya ma to the reverend
You see me on the block crack, gats, and weed
Rats, plats, and ki's, that's me

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

x 2

[Baby talks till