Luyện nghe bài hát Mr. Fuck Up

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

My call me Grinch and yes I'm known to be a fuck up
Loaded clip, folded sticks, my and double cuffed up
Put my stick so nigga my pockets with the dollar
'Cause they rock the stock in a private prison parlor
Grinch you did it, your black ass did it
Give Bone the and let him kill it
Give the microphone and watch me beat you like a cop
G from the hall so the maggot won't stop
And plus I'm packin' punches always keep a grip
My call me Bone from the Whole Damn Click
I like a mack and keep the bitches on my dick
You sorry sap sips still hangin' on my
is the heart and that's where we all from
The jackin' goin' on in the hood and in the
And don't be caught slippin' we dippin' the 4
'Cause Ren'll grab his nine and watch him smoke 'em from the
And then we make a dash and put ass in the air
True checkin' done by the true fuckin'
I'm to the cut with 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 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
Don't worry 'bout a we got the end, we gettin' loot

call 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 runnin' the cops
And the bitches call me daddy I'm tearin' up the cock
Yo the title's Mr. Fuck up so I that I'm fucked
Got no luck, shit, gotta go and earn a quick
boom, is the sound 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 hangin' in the fuckin' hall
I place where we smoke bud and get bent
And when it comes to music put on MC Ren
Now everybody and the bitches gettin' freaky
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 you know it's the indo
Now I'm feelin' high like I'm on a cloud
The dust that we I guess we live our lives foul
Beware of the nigga that 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 motherfucker we can thump
Or get a fuckin' pump, put a in your chest
Slugs goin' straight through a proof vest
gettin' worse if I have to drop the dogs
Beat ya in your yellin' till ya hit the hall
So smalls, get your fuckin' 9 and clip
And let motherfuckers know what's up on the Whole Click