Luyện nghe bài hát Nobody Fucking With Us

B]
Let's get it like transmission and alternators
Got the keys in the cage 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, under my car
These niggaz runnin 'round talkin they better than moi
When I'm done all that's 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 no names but I left the best on they back
And they ain't sayin no names so I say it myself
I'm finger fuckin this game so you gotta play with
Don't pull a K off the shelf, or a strap out the stash
I ain't gotta the pistol, I will chop at yo' ass
I let the hands of God toe-tap on you fast
Leave you mashed like on the top of the grass
Call the coppers to catch me and just tell you to drop it
I'll find you sooner or later, and can't do shit to stop it
Got that thang and I'ma pop it a bubble on the double
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, it's "B.E. 3," this shit is

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 you missin some
We just got two different bills, styles, different sums
as a drive-by, ended as a hit-and-run
Stop me in the streets, let it be when you greet
Fuck lookin for me, I'm on your property if it's
Not for robbery of ya piece, it's with my peeps
That is usually sodomy for the beat
'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
When I fix this 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
Make me sick, you eat don't make 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, nigga I got houses all across the map
Even got a Boston pad, got bitch from Boston bad
Well put her in a wrestlin move, but I heard she got (Boston Crab)
in your 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 know what blindfold's for
That bloodshed's a secret, let's keep it behind doors

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

I]
I'm the present and the
Like in 2012 I'm the present in the future, an executive producer
You will never get to choose ya destiny cause you a pessimistic
Mess with me and I'll shoot ya
I'ma ya like I'm reppin the Yakuza
Die like I'm sexin 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 gotta act tough to get a couple of
Little nigga 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 datin Erykah Badu
Pair of Ferragamo shoes, I stomp you
I'm fucked up, like the relationship between 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 know how to fix they own glitch
I'll you face down, like chicks who lick they own tits
And from this day forward, Crooked is aging
Gettin younger and fresher, puttin bums some pressure
Yes sir! Watch the next Slaughterhouse
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 of the most popular bomb weed
Most proper, hoes rock with my who top seed
Po' vodka, we bottle pop in the calm breeze
No copper can stop a COB star - I'm a
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 out-of-town paper so don't confuse it
Tell the hip-hop nah, it's only music
And haters steady on "The Bar Exam"
Probably in trunk now dependin on what car I ram