Luyện nghe bài hát Link Up

[Intro: Producer & Mr WOT]
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 your cash, she bop with the edible, oh
Blue lights, see
I don't know to-to do
Baby cattin', uh,
Fishing-fishing, lost,

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

[Verse 3: J.B2 &
Michael Jackson up your neck
again, man pattern the neek
Arsenal, bro, cover Welbeck, run
Big man on the neck likkle-likkle
Na, uh-uh, today settle-settle
up my lead tongue, Skittle-Skittle
Baby 'pon me, just
Got the jeet and tryna surf on pum

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

[Verse 5:
I don't even wanna too much
All these faggots we put poles in dingers
I might get DS to back his or get big bro to back his spinner
They wanna see Loose in the cold, bro
Had them shook and turned them
How many times have we run down
Got chased with shanks, some nigga
Got in the lack while sleeping
How the fuck can I call this
don't want this index squeezing
Regz in the so your bitch ain't leaving
How many times did they up bro?
I backed my shank, need me a reason
Wait 'til shh comes on ends
Cah 'til he I won't stop creeping

6: J.B2 & Mr WOT]
Who's-who's that
You ain't badder than us, shit
Kway-kway, bill up the and lit
She loving the sex, lick tit
Trust me,
I bop her batty
Tryna nut it in
Finna ugh, no
When I beef lick that, get this teddy
Couldn't give

[Verse 7:
See the opps off so rapid
Back out my shank, then it's back in
And the gyal over there so
Opp's cuff 'cause they come like faggots
I done slept in the cells no
Had to put all my stuff in
And they put all my food in
done bag all my clothes in packets
It's the I live, where you never see man complain
I ain't never YJ so gassed; made the grub disappear like David Blaine
It's like done put out a diss track, then got straight 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 send home letters
I got 'round with a sawed-off dots, yeah they say I'm a

Man J.Sav can't stop dipping
have to go sew sweaters
Tryna get a mans top
Opps up love letters
I can't trust no female, you can call me
I got no feelings
So I'm out here hearts
I'm tryna get that target
Shank in your like I'm playing darts

[Outro: Mr
Crud!