Luyện nghe bài hát Low Income

Let um feel the beat
I'm 'bout to come through stereo
Should my rhyme start with the
Start with the

To my people who don't go to work
God it's Friday
Cover me she's 'bout to put up her
Thank God it's
Do your mom now you act so
Thank God it's
What's the track, what's the girl?
She don't wanna, she don't wanna on Monday

I thank my hood
For makin' me a before I had fast cars
And couldn't tell the between whoppers and caviar
Before the fame way before changed
All I to do was freestyle and get a name

I used to work at the food restaurant
For minimum dreamin I'm on stage
At 17 I the house 'cause my father was a minister
And I didn't want the Marvin

What's goin on today to sell a song you need a video soft porn
MC's in the industry you tip?
Don't let pimp you like Goldy
And tell Sony they better have my
'Cause I play wit the and be like Lionel Richie
Low Income, I stay so hungry if 50 Cent came to rob me
He'd be part of my
I, I wanna my hood

To my people cuttin' in the shops
Thank God it's
To the thugs up in the chop shops
Yo, Friday
To my that don't got no job
it's Friday
What's the track, what's the yo?
She don't wanna, she wanna work on Monday

All the ladies
I feel like cookin' you no breakfast
This
All my say
You have to cook me breakfast
'Cause your girlfriend will you leave

I thank my hood
For the love of money I know kids who'll slit your
Friday the 13th Jason wit a trench
But you can't Suzie
'Cause her man got so uzi's you'd think he was Cadivi

Meanwhile, she's getting her nails
Crystal clear so they shine like wit diamonds
It's such a shame happened last week
Man they found her under the with a letter from the Son of Sam
It said to tell New York I sleepin'
You want to be then you better pack your heat in
And to my man G Swar Rest in
I still poor liquor 1 draw on the cocoa

Inhale, exhale grasses
Polices in the area, but ain't no to panic
You wit you getting in
If not, then we make CNN
I, I wanna thank my

To my people who wanna go to work
Thank God Friday
Cover me she's to put up her skirt
God it's Friday
Do your mom know you act so
God it's Friday
What's the track, the track girl?
She don't wanna she don't wanna work on

Yo, to my people cuttin' in the shops
God it's Friday
To the sweatin' up in the chop shops
Yo, Friday
To my who don't got no job
Everyday Firday
What's the track, the track yo?
She don't wanna she don't work on Monday

All the ladies
I feel like cookin' you no breakfast
mornin'
All my say
Well you don't to cook me breakfast
'Cause your girlfriend will after you