Luyện nghe bài hát Oh!

[Verse 1 - Trice]
Yeah, Obie Trice, real no gimmicks
I came in the game, no image
I came in the game, a name
I was given from a mayn who ain't give a fuck his child-ren
I proclaim the though, never in vain no
Watch the change grow, a young nigga who didn't from fame
Copped the Ro', now they want my brains on the main road
They don't understand I came for
How I fo', with a million sold
Who say you grow from mildew and mold
Gettin money like Ross
I'm told, a coffin's the routes I go
Oh that's the you on, oh no
I'm down for the rifle, the fo fo
Don't ever try to send a home, no no
I know you catch me at Sunoco
Show me that your put holes in my photo
NOPE!, HOPE!, toast, no jokes, send slugs through your Polo
Just cause our thug solo
And po' grown folk, be a cold negro
Be-low, your up people
Be-lieve that the boy see no

[Chorus - Rhymes]
OHH! I had you yellin out when I backed a 30/30
OHH! Too late for niggaz to get and start readin they Bible
OHH! See you can yell like other niggaz, your pickin a dirty
OHH! See you should make instead of makin me become a psycho

[Verse 2 - Trice]
I it, O. Trice at 25 survived it
but violent, invite the violence
Fist fight a fireman, be a
'Til these niggaz is silent
O. from a trife environment
He 'Rock's the Mic' no of retirin
when the bank accounts light like a fire thin
I'm in the position to other clients then
Meanwhile I'm a virus like
A nigga crossover, Europeans
And the retirin, I ain't buyin
Motherfuckers actin like you them
Who tryin a nigga, who use
I figure your crew tired, my trigger introduces
the sirus, you in hospital, orange juice and vitamins
No

[Verse 3 - Obie
A derelict who hustle
My heritage married the street
Like a couple of a unk's ago (yeah)
So this blood through my nuts
Seems like I wasn't in
When the teacher's ass
Nope, naw I was just a in oath
Sit on the and flip coke
The reach you got through my dome
yaffle so the gat'll be chrome
Pull the window raffle, so I with a track and the phones (woo)
Fuck a act and a clone, is actual happening's that's factual back in my home
This is rap, but I ain't rappin so you clappin the
Think we trapped in the act, for the of performin (nigga)
is your warnin, run up on the wrong
And your tissue is burning a hundred degrees [Blaap]
O. Treezy's gone, my nigga bring the track back here for 'em