Luyện nghe bài hát Mr. Fuck Up

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

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

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