Luyện nghe bài hát Mr. Fuck Up

* (NOT Cash Money -- MC brother)

My niggaz me Grinch and yes I'm known to be a fuck up
Loaded clip, sticks, my lifts and double cuffed up
Put my stick so nigga my pockets with the dollar
'Cause they rock keep the stock in a prison parlor
Grinch you did it, your black ass did it
Bone the microphone and let him kill it
Give Bone the microphone and watch me beat you a cop
Lil' G from the hall so the maggot stop
And plus I'm punches always keep a good grip
My homies call me Bone from the Whole Click
I like a mack and keep the bitches on my dick
You sorry sap sips hangin' 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 caught while we dippin' the 4
'Cause Ren'll grab his nine and watch him 'em from the door
And we make a dash and put that ass in the air
True checkin' done by the fuckin' player
I'm headed to the cut straight chronic in my pock
make 'em kill 'em 'cause I'm servin' 'em spot
And that's how it's done I keep it like a sailor
My beats are large my feats are star, some me Chuck Taylor
Then I the Juvy 'cause I know we gotta Coupe
worry 'bout a damn we got the end, we gettin' loot

Then call me Mr. when I'm chillin' in the spot
My niggaz call me Bishop when I'm rollin' with my
The call me bandit when I'm runnin' from the cops
And the call me daddy when I'm tearin' 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 of my cannon
I'm a nigga with a motherfuckin' gun master plannin'
I'm a ass nigga makin' motherfuckers fall
A from the streets hangin' in the fuckin' hall
I place where we bud and niggaz get bent
And when it comes to music put on MC Ren
Now everybody chillin' and the bitches gettin'
a trick to the room now she gots ta lick me
Lickin' out my ass like a fuckin' groupie
I'm now I cleans up and call my nigga Juvy
Headin' downstairs my hand me a 4-O
Smokin' the extension you know the indo
Now I'm feelin' like I'm sittin' on a cloud
The that we kick I guess we live our lives foul
Beware of the nigga they call J-Rock
The party's through but I still got my glock
I'm watchin' for the bad apples in every
And if it's necessary we can thump
Or get a pump, put a hole in your chest
Slugs straight through a bullet proof vest
Matters gettin' if I have to drop the dogs
Beat ya in your face yellin' till ya hit the
So smalls, get fuckin' 9 and your clip
And let these know what's up on the Whole Click