Luyện nghe bài hát Lincoln

I was rollin' the ghetto
In my Continental
Blowin' Kush smoke out the
What you think my tint for?

G]
It go
Measures in a tale so
formula 6-4 as you trail my tracks
Bitch, there's nothin' more pleasant gettin' paid on point
Pretty with gold grills just to hold my joints
I 'em plead
As the director scene
New words, don't say my
I just make 'em say
rings on that motherfuckin' wood grain wheel
Raw, I'm Law, but you should check my appeal
Once upon a not too far back
There was a young pack
That grew up in a
Syd King
And Ace played Jack
Bitches be talkin'
That's how you end up
I'm chips
And if we eating then I'm after bitch
no cost, just pimpin' player
You should be the risk
We winnin' there ain't no other way to play the game
All I hang is zeros
Figure my checks look the same

I was rollin' the ghetto
In my Lincoln
Blowin' smoke out the window
What you think my tint fo'?