Luyện nghe bài hát Make The World Go Round

Yeah, the nations don't have it, a hatred addict
I need faces mad with when I'm around or I'm wastin fabric
I don't greater till my plush pieces cause you to suck your teeth
Till on my clean-thuggin mean nothin

Women dream I'm your husband, I'm Pushkin
The black poetry-writin Russian, ice
I bling, how could you question my direction
Or my for collection? Gangstas two-steppin'

You me, should thank me but lately
I burned so much trees I keep environmentalists
I'm a dude, I'm a wonder, your best success is my worst blunder
Y'all livin on pennies, I cop plenty Fendi

Vivienne Westwood, I'm
Get the whole Trump Tower top for the hood
Dre and Cool, we ridin heavy and why to

We make the go round
Now toast to the hustlers
We the world go round
Tell the hustlers, toast to the

We the world go round
Tell the to toast to the ballers
We make the world go
And tell the pour a glass for all of us
We make the go round

I see you on the floor jockin my swag
I'm Ralph Lauren tags
And pourin inside a Polo glass
Model bitches rollin grass, Escobar cash

with my entourage went from robbin' armored cars
To armin' stars, red carpet to the
We throwin red dice at the
I that red Lamborghini on twenties out my garage

of shoppin South Beach like havin a Terror Squad
We the best, big pimpin, top down, chrome
Top Gun, Tom Cruise inside my Gucci linen, no Just Romo you tryin' to shine I put the nine on your jersey for chromo

Jessica Simpson so-so
Nick his baby back, but that's low so
Tell Hawaii 5-0 to catch me at the pro
On the field chokin the jockey on my Polo

CB let em though
We make the world go
Tell the hustlers, toast to the
We make the world go

Tell the gangstas to to the balers
We make the go round
And tell the pour a glass for all of us
We the world go round

We make the world go
From my town and your
We on top, no us now
We got Patron, the ballers

Ladies on the and all of 'em two-steppin
L.A. to Harlem two-steppin
From L.A. to Harlem
So I stop he need to put the ladies up

We start with Bellini's and end with shots
H. Lorenzo belt, buckle Chrome Heart
A-life tag popper, it'd be sad not to out the store
With bags worth a 100 cash,

only when hafta, hafta to swell you up
Prefer a Peach Schnapps, beer, a Juet, or a Dutch
Mets cap, Queens, I'm a vet
Bet that 300 carats the average up on the neck,

Paid the cost, be the boss, Black Caesar
Weekends at the Venetian, pull up in that horse
Top down, new fashion, me is like
Seein through the lens of Helmut camera, light flashin

And I'm laughin', my plaque's from album
is ring-tone platinum but .99 cents adds up
I hate 'em, I congratulate 'em, the new young Prince
With young Mike Jackson on the same track,

Now, toast to the hustlers
We make the world go
Tell the hustlers to toast to the
We the world go round

Tell gangstas to toast to the ballers
We make the go round
And tell the ballers a glass for all of us
We make the world go