Luyện nghe bài hát Oh!

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

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

2 - Obie Trice]
I visualized it, O. at 25 survived it
Bright but violent, invite the
Fist a fireman, be a tyrant
these niggaz nights is silent
O. Trice from a trife
He 'Rock's the Mic' no sight of
Maybe when the bank accounts light a fire thin
I'm in the position to hire clients then
Meanwhile I'm a virus like
A crossover, Europeans admirin
And the soldier's retirin, I buyin
Motherfuckers like you denyin them
Who tryin a nigga, who use
I your crew tired, my trigger introduces VIOLENCE
Loose the sirus, you in hospital, orange juice and
No

[Verse 3 - Obie
A derelict who hustle
My married the street struggle
Like a couple of a unk's ago (yeah)
So this blood streams my nuts
Seems I wasn't in touch
When the teacher's ass
Nope, naw I was a preacher in oath
Sit on the bleachers and coke
The reach you got through my dome
Niggaz yaffle so the be chrome
Pull the window raffle, so I with a track and the phones (woo)
a act and a clone, this 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 sake of (nigga)
This is warnin, run up on the wrong
And your tissue is a hundred degrees warm [Blaap]
O. gone, my nigga Buzz bring the track back here for 'em