Luyện nghe bài hát Mr. Fuck Up

* (NOT Cash Money -- MC brother)

My niggaz call me and yes I'm known to be a fuck up
Loaded clip, sticks, my lifts and double cuffed up
Put my stick so nigga feel my with the dollar
'Cause rock keep the stock in a private prison parlor
Grinch you did it, your black ass did it
Bone the microphone and let him kill it
Give Bone the microphone and me beat you like a cop
Lil' G from the hall so the maggot won't
And plus I'm packin' always keep a good grip
My homies call me Bone the Whole Damn Click
I live like a mack and keep the bitches on my
You sorry sap sips still hangin' on my
Compton is the heart and where we all from
The goin' on in the hood and in the slum
And don't be caught slippin' while we the 4
'Cause grab his nine and watch him smoke 'em from the door
And then we make a dash and put ass in the air
True checkin' by the true fuckin' player
I'm to the cut with straight chronic in my pock
Rainin' make 'em 'em 'cause I'm servin' '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
I call the Juvy 'cause I know we gotta Coupe
Don't worry 'bout a damn we got the end, we loot

call me Mr. Dopeman when I'm chillin' in the spot
My niggaz me Bishop when I'm rollin' with my glock
The crackers call me bandit I'm runnin' from the cops
And the bitches call me 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 earn a quick
boom, is the sound of my cannon
'Cause I'm a with a motherfuckin' gun master plannin'
I'm a ass nigga makin' motherfuckers fall
A from the streets hangin' in the fuckin' hall
I where we smoke bud and niggaz get bent
And when it comes to music put on MC Ren
Now everybody chillin' and the bitches freaky
Took a trick to the now she gots ta lick me
Lickin' out my ass hole like a fuckin'
I'm through now I cleans up and 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 sittin' on a
The dust we kick I guess we live our lives foul
Beware of the nigga they call J-Rock
The party's goin' through but I still got my
I'm watchin' for the bad in every bunch
And if it's 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 drop the
ya in your face 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