Luyện nghe bài hát Nobody Fucking With Us

B]
Let's get it started like and alternators
Got the in the cage ready for who you call the greatest
Takin 'em down the biggest bitches to smallest haters
I'm 'bout to these niggaz, call 'em waiters
Got my right, money right, ready for war
And I got the C4, my competitor's car
These niggaz runnin talkin 'bout they better than moi
When I'm done all that's gon' be left is ya head and ya bra
Bitch I'm of the pack, and I'm ahead of the game
And I put yo' head on a platter you put some on my name
Bitch I'm the shit, see the stains I done left on the track?
And I ain't sayin no but I left the best on they back
And they ain't sayin no so I gotta say it myself
I'm finger fuckin game so you gotta play with yourself
Don't a K off the shelf, or pull a strap out the stash
I ain't gotta draw the pistol, I chop at yo' ass
I just let the of God toe-tap on you fast
Leave you mashed like potatoes on the top of the
Call the to catch me and they'll just tell you to drop it
I'll find you or later, and they can't do shit to stop it
Got that thang and I'ma pop it like a bubble on the
I am trouble in the flesh, you can't see me with the
We ain't wishin these good luck, go get a clover
Bun B, it's "B.E. 3," this shit is over

I]
SLAUGHTERHOUUUUUSE! (Whoo, Kiiiiiiiid!)

[Joe
at ya man look back at me, yeah I know, sickenin huh?
Few got a Porsche with only two doors, to upgrade cause you missin some
We just got two different bills, different styles, sums
Started as a drive-by, ended as a
Stop me in the streets, let it be properly when you
Fuck for me, I'm on your property if it's beef
Not for robbery of ya piece, it's with my peeps
comraderie is usually sodomy for the beat
'Less my critics put a lens on them, so I could look it
Shut the fuck up, mean that you too shook to do it
We'd see two pennies to name, yet you so saucy
When I fix this game you can (Thank Me Later) for it, no
Switch my demeanor up I'm, off my 380
My, bright, stars is by my head, baby shit
Make me sick, what you eat don't make me
out the reason they hate me is my God-like presence, must be athiest
While all of the frauds in rap is talkin swag put a in that
Slaughter's back, listen nigga I got all across the map
Even got a Boston pad, got this bitch from bad
Well put her in a wrestlin move, but I heard she got (Boston Crab)
Batteries in your back, go by he say
need you to know that it's no lee-way, and the tables are turned, go DJ
So you know that blindfold's for
That bloodshed's a secret, let's keep it closed doors

Royce Da 5'9"]
Who you said was again?
Ay, it ain't nobody fuckin us, nobody fuckin with us
Who you said was hot
Ay ay, it ain't fuckin with us, nobody fuckin with us
Who you say could again?
Ay, it ain't nobody fuckin with us, fuckin with us
Who you say was dope
Ay ay, it nobody fuckin with us, nobody fuckin with us

I]
I'm the present and the
Like Christmas in 2012 I'm the present in the future, an executive
You will never get to choose ya cause you a pessimistic loser
Mess with me and definitely shoot ya
do's ya like I'm reppin the Yakuza
Die hard like I'm with Medusa, do somethin nigga
Born thuggin, I don't fuck the cock
hang down my pant leg, balls tucked in my socks
I ain't act tough to get a couple of props
Little nigga raised hisself, I don't know up with my pops
Do I think I'm the dopest, in I do
Make you switch whole style like you're datin Erykah Badu
of Ferragamo shoes, I will stomp you
I'm fucked up, like the relationship between Farrakhan and
I'm this instrumental, like a wrinkly old bitch
I'm the kick and snare, make 'em pick they own switch
I'm smarter than computers that know how to fix own glitch
I'll leave you face down, like chicks who lick they own
And from day forward, Crooked is aging backwards
Gettin younger and fresher, bums under some pressure
Yes sir! the next Slaughterhouse album
Every line is white powder, I talkin 'bout talcum
I am tighter than "The Biggest Losers" in a Smart car
alkie, the flask on the armoire
I'm from the home of the popular bomb weed
Most proper, hoes rock my partners who top seed
Po' vodka, we gon' bottle pop in the calm
No copper can stop a COB star - I'm a
Dumpin my cigar out on top of the palm trees
Chrome chopper, if I squeeze you drop on the
You wanna talk about the Oh let's do it
pocket syndrome, the money we gon' abuse it
Still gettin out-of-town paper so confuse it
the hip-hop cops nah, it's only music
And steady eavesdroppin on "The Bar Exam"
Probably in trunk now dependin on what car I ram