Luyện nghe bài hát My Hood to Your Block

[Mr.
It's the of gangstarism
I gotta it to my fellons serving time in prison
Intermission with oppossing my opponents die
Snatch a motherfucker for bluffing and they why
Oh my , who am I?? The of the night
Still crepping through them darkest of them
my gangsters straight chiefing burning leaves
Of batches, like matches we leaving ashes
Mashing and we reacting with actions swinging like
Nothing relaxes me but fat blants and bushes
The only kind of marijuana that a baller and pushes
Using T-A-C for stimulation,
I'm the reason why they call it
It's the of the One Man Batallion
Bitch slapping like a pimp in the alleywun
Me and my dawgs laws, you feel the heat
Unique dont let me speak you wanna meet defeat

2x]
One, Two many motherfuckers blast me
But when they see me they right pass me
like a bunch of little tricks
But all I gotta say to my enemies is suck my

[Mr.
I got that'll make a motherfucker think, I for living
I am Mr. Shadow, Beyond Entertainment the
All My dawgs swigging but all I do is
so when you smoke me and Diablo
Motherfuckers bring you own, like a motherfucker cloud nine
Beep as I recline, high fuck one time
Mind elevated banging daily on streets
Where my soldiers play for
And the grim rips, this shady sons of sluts
put me in a bag, but I got that .45Mag
Ready to me a filthy rat, strap on my waist line
Fool you test mine come meet a motherfucker
Feell the heat and see that I waste time
Ain't no next time, I roll in the West
Shit is so hected, my babies momma is wearing a vest
Test my skills and feel the pain, brain cell killing day
Drug dealing to get payed so fuck you, were all the

[Mr.
One, two many motherfuckers burry me
They think there scaring me, we'll they just me
To reach for my motherfucking weapon. stop
the residential section, presidential everything
From San To Japan, Beyond Entertainment
Be up the program, no damn cop is gonna stop me from smoking
We are motherfucker thinking that I"m joking, bullet poking
Straight on the otherside
Fuck attempted murder go and for a homocide
Wicked, why do try to get sick
If they know that It don't to shit
Chico let the people know we get lethal weapons
Who to this evil lyrical Jefe
Sur O' Este, is all I know
no more blunts were headed to the liquor store