Luyện nghe bài hát Maybach (Remix)

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Bắt đầu làm bài nào

Cool, I paint it blue
Ooh, bitch ate me too
what's crackin'?
I had to do shit

Ridin' in a Maybach
My homie he out, he just did eight flat
Connect fronted some work, I ain't payed back
Every snitch should die, on God I hate
Ridin' in a mothafuckin'
My homie he fresh out, he did eight flat
Connect fronted some work, I ain't payed back
Every snitch should die, on God I rats

Cool, I just paint it
Ooh, bitch ate the crew
True, gang I it too
Do, what I to do
Ice, water splash in the Patek
I caught him in traffic on
I took his top off over Khalid shit
600 start up
No response, I act like I don't that
Told my bitch, bring a friend ya'll can share
Head shot, aim, right where your at
New Glock, you right out your Air Max
AMIRI and Off White, I that
Slippers on 'em blocks where you niggas at
Everywhere I go, my jewelry I that
Same you front in, you end up dead at
I'm sober [?], the meds at
I'm not tryna go where the at
You my bro 'til I dead that
Tell Don or Tee send a head tap
I bought a with my first check
And I ain't even went to yet
an opp and leave his shirt wet
How New sound, yeah I heard Flex
BlocBoy my Grape
Now I got the talking 'bout my tapes
Scrap you in the box, I'm gaining weight
Pull up on the plug, I ain't tryna
New Prada's the straps
Call my niggas Fats, send another
She me head and get a cab
come outside and get a bag
I ain't talkin' bout the dance, me and Wiz did the dab
I kids in her mouth, she had your kids and you mad
We got a crib in the South, and bought some whips with the
I got a stick in my bag, you play I'm it fast

Ridin' in a Maybach
My homie he out, he just did eight flat
Connect some work, I still ain't payed back
Every snitch should die, on God I rats
Ridin' in a mothafuckin'
My homie he out he just did eight flat
Connect fronted some work, I still ain't payed
Every should die, on God I hate rats

BlocBoy, my
I fuck with the Rover, you know I mean?
It's Maybach season, my
Big boy toys and shit that, blue lights, you dig?
Feel like in the backseat

My homie he out, he just did eight flat
Every should die, on God I hate rats