Luyện nghe bài hát Murda Mami

Yeah! don't get pussy
(uh-huh)

Kinda short, dark-skinned, she a fly bitch
Be up in all clubs spillin Dom P and shit
Know the boy stunt, Jonathan clutch
Yves Saint Laurent on her bags to the pumps
D's her aura, Balenciago fedora
Lame niggaz bore her, like she Kimora
She'll take a kilo and stuff it up in the
Quicker than Ron, stash it her coochie (ha ha)
Breeze through the hood, treat her like a O.G.
First bitch in the hood, with the Coupe GT (yes)
Brooklyn is the team, McQueen
Bustin a bird and balance it with a beam
Five five, slanted eyes, bitch walk is
Mahushi Ron bracelets and jeans
They're called skinny, my bitch is like a with it
Black car, red bottoms, mobster in it

like damn, bitch, niggaz lovin me now
Oh-nine Bonnie & doin it now - whoa
Murder murder, bitches ain't never heard of
Gettin money, gettin hurt up, impatient to leak burners

Ross, send them bitches to the boss
The blood flyest bad bitch in New York
Y'all better bow the fuck down and pay homage
I'm ten million sold and SoundScan knowledge
And all y'all rat bitches garbage
me and Ross like the hood version of bombings
Bars give me style like when you in my
The 38 special in my Chanel
Now I got the llama and Ermet's
Word to sly swifter fox who me?
Say in pumps, Nickelus Curt with that bomb
So ladies raise glass to this man song

Money ain't a thing, just at my pinkie rings
So many in the bank, shit could never be the same
Tall four Velours, withdrawals by Michael
And I watch a pretty I'm talkin hundred or more
My critique for 'leet, not for the
And my in the street way longer than my receipt
with the money, no (Monie) all (In The Middle)
I'm dealin with opponents, gettin riddled
Box niggaz up, on the
sneakers, Louis luggage, the colognes and soaks
Smellin like money, my body with hundreds
Oh-nine Clyde, gotta live with it like uh