Luyện nghe bài hát Maybach (Remix)

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Bắt đầu làm bài nào

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

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

Cool, I just paint it
Ooh, your ate the crew
True, gang I it too
Do, I came to do
Ice, just splash in the Patek
I caught him in on Madison
I his top off over some Khalid shit
600 up automatic
No response, I act like I hear that
Told my bitch, bring a friend ya'll can that
shot, aim, right where your beard at
New Glock, you right out your Air Max
and Off White, I wear that
Slippers on 'em blocks where you niggas at
Everywhere I go, my jewelry I that
Same club you in, you end up dead at
I'm sober [?], the meds at
I'm not tryna go where the at
You jackin' my bro 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
Catch an opp and his shirt wet
How New York sound, yeah I Flex
BlocBoy my Grape
Now I got the talking 'bout my tapes
you in the box, cause I'm gaining weight
Pull up on the plug, I ain't tryna
New Prada's the straps
my niggas Fats, send another batch
She give me and get a cab
I'll outside and get a bag
I ain't talkin' the dance, when 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 some whips with the cash
I got a stick in my bag, you I'm unzippin' it fast

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

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

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