Luyện nghe bài hát Nobody Fucking With Us

B]
Let's get it started transmission and alternators
Got the keys in the cage ready for who you call the
Takin 'em down from the bitches to smallest haters
I'm 'bout to serve niggaz, call 'em waiters
Got my mind right, money right, for war
And I got the C4, under my car
These niggaz runnin 'round talkin 'bout they than moi
I'm done all that's gon' be left bitch is ya head and ya bra
Bitch I'm ahead of the pack, and I'm ahead of the
And I put yo' head on a you put some shit on my name
Bitch I'm the shit, see the stains that I left on the track?
And I ain't sayin no names but I the best on they back
And they ain't sayin no so I gotta say it myself
I'm finger this game so you gotta play with yourself
Don't a K off the shelf, or pull a strap out the stash
I ain't draw the pistol, I will chop at yo' ass
I let the hands of God toe-tap on you fast
Leave you mashed potatoes on the top of the grass
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 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 niggaz good luck, go get a clover
This Bun B, "B.E. 3," this shit is over

I]
SLAUGHTERHOUUUUUSE! (Whoo, Kiiiiiiiid!)

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

[Chorus: Da 5'9"]
Who you said was again?
Ay, it ain't nobody fuckin with us, fuckin with us
Who you was hot again?
Ay ay, it ain't nobody fuckin with us, nobody with us
Who you say could again?
Ay, it ain't nobody fuckin with us, nobody fuckin us
Who you say was again?
Ay ay, it ain't 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 ya destiny cause you a pessimistic loser
Mess with me and I'll definitely ya
I'ma do's ya like I'm the Yakuza
Die hard I'm sexin with Medusa, do somethin nigga
thuggin, I don't fuck with the cock
Nuts hang down my pant leg, balls tucked in my
I ain't act tough to get a couple of props
Little raised hisself, I don't know what's up with my pops
Do I I'm the dopest, in America? I do
Make you switch your whole style like you're datin Erykah
Pair of Ferragamo shoes, I stomp you
I'm fucked up, like the between Farrakhan and Jews
I'm spankin this instrumental, like a old bitch
I'm whippin the kick and snare, make 'em 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! Watch the Slaughterhouse album
Every line is white powder, I ain't talkin 'bout
I am tighter "The Biggest Losers" cruisin in a Smart car
Distinguished alkie, the flask on the
I'm from the home of the popular bomb weed
Most proper, hoes rock with my who top seed
Po' vodka, we gon' bottle pop in the breeze
No copper can a COB star - I'm a giant
my cigar ashes out on top of the palm trees
Chrome chopper, if I squeeze you drop on the
You wanna about the paper? Oh let's do it
pocket syndrome, the money we gon' abuse it
Still out-of-town paper so don't confuse it
Tell the hip-hop cops nah, it's only
And haters steady on "The Bar Exam"
Probably in your trunk now dependin on car I ram