Luyện nghe bài hát Mr. Fuck Up

* (NOT Cash -- MC Ren's brother)

My niggaz me Grinch and yes I'm known to be a fuck up
Loaded clip, folded sticks, my lifts and cuffed up
Put my stick so nigga feel my pockets with the
'Cause they rock keep the stock in a private parlor
Grinch you did it, your black ass did it
Bone the microphone and let him kill it
Give the microphone and watch me beat you like a cop
Lil' G the hall so the maggot won't stop
And plus I'm packin' punches always a good grip
My homies call me Bone the Whole Damn Click
I live like a and keep the bitches on my dick
You sorry sap sips still on my shit
is the heart and that's where we all from
The jackin' goin' on in the and in the slum
And don't be slippin' while we dippin' the 4
'Cause Ren'll his nine and watch him smoke 'em from the door
And we make a dash and put that ass in the air
True checkin' done by the true player
I'm headed to the cut with straight in my pock
make 'em kill 'em 'cause I'm servin' 'em spot
And that's how done I keep it flowin' like a sailor
My beats are my feats are star, some called me Chuck Taylor
Then I call the Juvy 'cause I we gotta Coupe
Don't worry a damn we got the end, we gettin' loot

Then me Mr. Dopeman when I'm chillin' in the spot
My niggaz call me when I'm rollin' with my glock
The crackers call me bandit when I'm from the cops
And the bitches call me daddy when I'm up the cock
Yo the title's Mr. Fuck up so I figure I'm fucked
Got no luck, shit, gotta go and a quick buck
Boom boom, is the sound of my
'Cause I'm a nigga with a motherfuckin' gun master
I'm a crazy ass makin' motherfuckers fall
A nigga from the hangin' in the fuckin' hall
I where we smoke bud and niggaz get bent
And it comes to music put on MC Ren shit
Now everybody chillin' and the bitches freaky
Took a trick to the room now she ta lick me
Lickin' out my ass hole like a fuckin'
I'm through now I cleans up and call my nigga
downstairs my niggaz hand me a 4-O
Smokin' the extension you know it's the
Now I'm feelin' high like I'm on a cloud
The dust that we kick I guess we our lives foul
Beware of the that they call J-Rock
The party's goin' through but I got my glock
I'm watchin' for the bad in every bunch
And if necessary motherfucker we can thump
Or get a fuckin' pump, put a hole in chest
Slugs goin' straight through a bullet vest
Matters gettin' worse if I have to the dogs
Beat ya in your face yellin' till ya hit the
So smalls, get your 9 and your clip
And let these know what's up on the Whole Click