Luyện nghe bài hát Link Up

[Intro: Producer Tags & Mr
Beats
Fresh Money
Yo, Dublin, big up yourself, you dun
Obviously, it
Crud!
Maud!

1: J.B2]
Man back your mash and bop with a sauce
And splash cash, she bop with the edible, oh
Blue lights, see
I know what to-to do
Baby cattin', uh,
Fishing-fishing, lost,

2: Russ]
Fuck-fuck 'dem yutes, they're
Infected, need medicine
On 'ting, if you're from Bellingham
One man up, way too
with the broom like Harry, uh
Sexed on bae, no bally
Akhi, ying and yang, I been
Fly lick the shots in the alley

3: J.B2 & Crowd]
Michael Jackson up your neck
again, man pattern the neek
Arsenal, bro, cover Welbeck, run
Big man on the touched; likkle-likkle
Na, uh-uh, today settle-settle
up my lead tongue, Skittle-Skittle
Baby me, just jiggle-jiggle
Got the and skeet tryna surf on pum

[Verse 4:
Michael Jack, moonwalk in the
Pretty face and a whole load of
Ching him up, tryna out your guts
Boom-boom, bang, got two in the
Like, bro, was you thinking?
it out, now the yutes sprinting
Let 'em have it, let the pain in
Shoot, it off without blinking

5: Chuks]
I don't wanna talk too much
All faggots know we put poles in dingers
I might get DS to back his shank or get big bro to back his
They don't see Loose in the cold, bro
Had shook and turned them sprinter
How many times we run down Adz?
Got chased with shanks, some stupid
Got in the lack while sleeping
How the fuck can I this beefin'?
They don't want this squeezing
Regz in the room so your ain't leaving
How many times did lock up bro?
I backed my shank, need me a reason
Wait shh comes back on ends
Cah 'til he does; I won't creeping

6: J.B2 & Mr WOT]
Who's-who's nigga?
You ain't badder us, you're shit
Kway-kway, bill up the and lit
She loving the sex, lick tit
me, daddy
When I bop her
Tryna nut it in
ugh, no quicky
When I lick that, tryna get this teddy
give chit-chat

[Verse 7:
See the opps off so rapid
Back out my shank, then back in jackets
And the gyal over there so
gon' cuff 'cause they come like faggots
I done in the cells no blankets
Had to put all my stuff in
And they put all my in plastic
They done bag all my clothes in
It's the life I live, you never see man complain
I ain't never seen YJ so gassed; made the grub disappear David Blaine
It's like Remi done put out a diss track, then got on the rassclaat plane
It's got my head back so I gotta smoke the Mary Jane
Huh?
I shoulda better
I put holes in numerous tops so the pigs home letters
I got 'round 'ere a sawed-off dots, yeah they say I'm a

Man J.Sav really can't dipping
have to go sew sweaters
Tryna get a top wetter
Opps up love letters
I can't trust no female, you can me dome-getter
I ain't got no
So I'm out here breaking
I'm really get that target
Shank in your head like I'm playing

Mr WOT]
Crud!