Luyện nghe bài hát Mo' Mail

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

Went out the house, I think it was a
was runnin' with drop top drop, havin' a fun day
Kickin' it with my niggas up on the
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, this is the route
What the is my problem nigga?

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

I'm sittin' on my gat thinkin', shit is
Some roll up in an old school
I ain't trippin', ay, you know nigga's face
I heard the motherfuckin'

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

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

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

Check fan, the gotta be about
As greasy as gravy in to maintain
So, is a motherfucker, ain't 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 mobbin' gaffle the motherfuckers 'cause my
Shootin' up was my hobby
Stop the tech-eleven on two-eleven, I did a

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

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

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

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

I can't get enough, good,
Good shit, motherfucker, shit
I think, I'm a jet drunk motherfuck
Ay, here, ay, I'm off this Liquorice Rainall, boy
You understand don't 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 motherfuckin' Mary J.
And reminisce on havin' a nigga's last when he slowly die
Stang his ass in the chest the hollow
him in his thr-thr-throat, so he can't swallow

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

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

Of bloody body a motherfucker going nutty
Bloaw, boaw, Po' bust a route
Brown, his family, fuck it, send his fingers home
'Cause the shit get major, put the
upon his pager

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

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