Luyện nghe bài hát Mo' Mail

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

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

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

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

I'm on my gat thinkin', shit is cool
Some niggaz up in an old school
I trippin', ay, you know this nigga's face
I heard the bass

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

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

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

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

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

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

My homies motherfuckin' like a melon
Slavery is of convicted felon
So, dear Mr. Officer of the law
Rodney Kind don't need a trial, what was was what was saw

You could take the niggas up out the ghetto
But you can't take the ghetto up out the motherfuckin'
you hear the voice of the niggas 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, shit
I think, I'm a little jet motherfuck
Ay, look here, ay, I'm off Liquorice Rainall, boy
You understand that ya? Huh, you feel it
Ay, ay here nigga, ay
What I want you to do, boy, drop ill shit

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

R-a-rat, t-a-tat put a buck in
The motherfuckin' six-foot dog
Comin' to with the trigger of the AK
Another real ass nigga the East Bay

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

Of bloody body a motherfucker going nutty
Bloaw, boaw, Po' a knowledge route
Brown, notify his family, it, send his fingers home
the shit get major, put the [Unverified]
Number upon his

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

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

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

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

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