Luyện nghe bài hát Mo' Mail

Ah, it
Ah, got your nigga E-40 in this motherfucker
I buzz, I put a step in it in the Fac house, motherfucker
Ay, G-Nut, Spice,
Let 'em it

Went out the house, I it was a Sunday
Nigga was with drop top drop, havin' a fun day
it with my niggas up on the block
Talkin' shit, 'Crooked Eye'

I got the fat rush from the chocolate Thai
I'm good, I wanna kick it and hang out
But when the drive-by hit, is the main route
What the fuck is my problem

I got a glock, better gobble them
So, why should I trip, the clip, put the joint to my lip
Get the motherfuckin' forty a real ass nigga hit

I'm sittin' on my gat thinkin', is cool
Some niggaz up in an old school
I ain't trippin', ay, you know this nigga's
I heard the bass

Of a sawed off shotgun, on the pump
Musty dead bodies and a bump, trump
Smellin' up the neighborhood, lyin' in the
Somebody had mo' mail the rest of the pushers

Yeah, I'm just a
Yeah, I'm a hustler
Yeah, I'm just a

Spice 1, you know hoes gonna go, boy
Look here, ay look,
They got schemes and scandals out right?
that funk is on, this here

Check fan, the motherfucker be about
As greasy as gravy in to maintain
So, society is a motherfucker, it?
Ay, whatta 'bout those niggas on your nigga?
Ice spit shit about that shit, nigga

Get off my dick, nigga, get your own
Steady gaffle the motherfuckers 'cause my jobbing
Shootin' up was my hobby
Stop the tech-eleven on two-eleven, I did a

Shot the mothefucker, is grenades I'll be livin'
the motherfuckers like a new pair of Levi's and
Used to think the cops were so motherfuckin'
they tied my cousin to a chair and broke his chin

My homies motherfuckin' head a melon
Slavery is [Unverified] of convicted
So, Mr. Officer of the motherfuckin' law
Rodney Kind don't need a trial, was seen was what was saw

You could the niggas up out the motherfuckin' ghetto
But you take the ghetto up out the motherfuckin' niggas
Can't you hear the voice of the comin' at cha?
Fuck you Mr. President, I I wanna gat ya

I mo' mail than the rest of the pushers
Mo' mail the rest of the piles

I get enough, good, good
Good shit, motherfucker, good
I think, I'm a little jet drunk
Ay, look here, ay, I'm off Liquorice Rainall, boy
You understand don't ya? Huh, you feel it
Ay, ay look nigga, ay
What I want you to do, boy, that ill shit

I'll make this gat like motherfuckin' Mary J. Blige
And reminisce on havin' a nigga's breath when he slowly die
Stang his ass in the with the hollow
Capped him in his thr-thr-throat, so he can't

R-a-rat, put a buck in y'all
The motherfuckin' six-foot dog
Comin' to with the trigger of the AK
Another real ass nigga from the Bay

For the niggas who kid yourself by losin' your fuckin'
Bloaw, bloaw, cap, we do it like that
to put a motherfucker brains in his lap
Smokin' up a as I reminisce

Of body bags a motherfucker going nutty
Bloaw, boaw, Po' a knowledge route
Brown, notify his family, fuck it, his fingers home
'Cause the get major, put the [Unverified]
Number his pager

Bitch, don't with me
I know a gang of that will shoot it up with me
I need mo' mail the rest of the pushers

It's the S P I C E ya, nigga, E-40
(Erick Sermon)
in to the curb and die
These motherfuckers don't this shit, boy

This shit is so real, man
Ay, nineteen
Ay, I got one of

Mo' mail the rest of the pushers
Mo' mail than the rest of the
Mo' mail than the rest of the
Mo' mail than the rest of the

Mo' than the rest of the pushers
Mo' mail the rest of the pushers
Mo' mail the rest of the pushers