Luyện nghe bài hát Nobody Fucking With Us

B]
Let's get it started transmission and alternators
Got the keys in the ready for who you call the greatest
Takin 'em down from the biggest 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
niggaz runnin 'round talkin 'bout they better than moi
When I'm done all gon' be left bitch is ya head and ya bra
I'm ahead 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 that I done left on the
And I ain't sayin no names but I the best on they back
And ain't sayin no names so I gotta say it myself
I'm finger fuckin this so you gotta play with yourself
pull a K off the shelf, or pull a strap out the stash
I gotta draw the pistol, I will chop at yo' ass
I just let the hands of God on you fast
Leave you mashed like potatoes on the top of the
the coppers to catch me and they'll just tell you to drop it
I'll find you sooner or later, and they do shit to stop it
Got that thang and pop it like a bubble on the double
I am trouble in the flesh, you see me with the Hubble
We ain't wishin niggaz good luck, go get a clover
This Bun B, it's "B.E. 3," shit is over

I]
SLAUGHTERHOUUUUUSE! (Whoo, Kiiiiiiiid!)

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

[Chorus: Da 5'9"]
Who you was dope again?
Ay, it ain't nobody fuckin with us, nobody with us
Who you was hot again?
Ay ay, it ain't nobody fuckin us, nobody fuckin with us
Who you say spit again?
Ay, it ain't nobody fuckin with us, fuckin with us
Who you say was dope
Ay ay, it ain't fuckin with us, nobody fuckin with us

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