Luyện nghe bài hát Mr. Fuck Up

* (NOT Cash -- 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 cuffed up
Put my stick so nigga feel my with the dollar
'Cause they rock keep the in a private prison parlor
Grinch you did it, your ass really did it
Give the microphone 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 plus I'm packin' punches always a good grip
My homies call me Bone from the Damn Click
I live like a mack and keep the on my dick
You sorry sap sips hangin' on my shit
Compton is the heart and that's 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 grab his nine and watch him 'em from the door
And then we make a dash and put ass in the air
True checkin' done by the true player
I'm headed to the cut straight chronic in my pock
Rainin' make 'em kill 'em 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 call the Juvy 'cause I we gotta Coupe
Don't 'bout a damn we got the end, we gettin' loot

Then call me Mr. Dopeman I'm chillin' in the spot
My call 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 daddy 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 sound of my
'Cause I'm a nigga a motherfuckin' gun master plannin'
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 when it to music put on MC Ren shit
Now everybody chillin' and the bitches freaky
Took a to the room now she gots ta lick me
Lickin' out my ass hole a fuckin' groupie
I'm now I cleans up and call my nigga Juvy
Headin' my niggaz hand me a 4-O
the extension you know it's the indo
Now I'm feelin' high I'm sittin' on a cloud
The dust that we kick I guess we our lives foul
Beware of the nigga they call J-Rock
The party's goin' but I still got my glock
I'm for the bad apples 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 proof vest
Matters gettin' worse if I have to the dogs
Beat ya in your face till ya hit the hall
So smalls, get your fuckin' 9 and your
And let these motherfuckers what's up on the Whole Click