Luyện nghe bài hát Oh My Lord

Why wanna clock me?
Like that dance called the
Don't they know I break motherfuckers parts like Rocky
Part I, II, part III, niggaz can't fuck with me
My style's plum crazy
(What?)

Who's that wild ass catchin' wreck
Stickin' Jamaicans for sound outside discoteques
It's Klep the death specialist, and Stone shit
Stayin' high for the nine-quint
Ras bad guy, burns the house like Left Eye

Why try mimic? MC's get broke like speed
(Uhh)
Niggaz can't fuck my metaphors
Canin MC's like they in Klep
Been more wards than Humphrey Shore
Put together catchin'

On the regular, got that net, push me and Dread
Stressin' a hoe, what the Dread won't know won't hurt
Robbin' his workers for work, now, whose turf is this?
It's Klep's, the clothes

interceptor, pussy collector
Got bitch on my dick and I ain't even stressin' her
enough sex in her, my styles are regular
Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique moves in like the

say, "Oh my Lord"

Throw gats to
Flows than bitches Punani, try me, die G
Dangerous, since my daddy me out
The tip of his dick, Biggie Smalls with the shit
Spit clips, niggaz like bananas

Flavour Tropicana, orange, mango, peach
I each negro for they dough
get to bendin', got two cases, one pendin'
560 V-12 engine, spinnin'
In 9-2-9 Mazda's, Tammy and

The menage-a-trois around my
Ill and Al Skratch smokin' 50 sacks in the back of Ac's
Windows cracked, so sit relax
Yo Vec, crush the hash, the in the stash

say, "Oh my Lord"
say, "Oh my Lord"
say, "Oh my Lord"
say, "Oh my Lord"

What you doin' yourself? Stone heart's the way to wealth
Indecisive thoughts make get dealt
Money makes the world go round, robbin'
Fuck a job shit, niggaz want cribs, bricks and
All-wheel automobiles, traction

For clay roads, rollin' with dough, kickin'
On the cell with on hold, that's how we roll
(Uhh)
Rhymes got as hell so to the bank I stroll
(Uhh)
Money on my mind, open from my eyes
pupils shaped like dollar signs

The is mine
Niggaz frontin', feelin' twelve pellets
BIG is repellant, to all that, "He say, she say"
We play, Russian roulette, the threat

Your crew's vagina, you and your co-signer
Nigga, we rollin' in eight and a halfs, TV's in the
Three G's in the stash, see we love the
No coke, then get more

say, "Oh my Lord"

Niggaz don't know 'bout my
They don't how complex it is
Baggin' bitches in GS 300
And the sex is for summer

Passports for transports to remote resorts
Bitches Donna Karan, "Catwoman" suits, matchin' figure boots
Haircut cute, on tops and like prostitutes
My explicit
Got bitches bringin' they own on the first visit

If Biggie bring big of beef
Backin' niggaz down, burners bring bundles of belief
Common thief, drug chief, syndicated
Went from 10 K to 24 K and hate it
J.M. sedated,
(Uhh)

B.I.G for President, buckin' past the spleen
9 dream, Mac 11 nightmares
Electric chairs, which do you fear?
Big Poppa, M.A.F.I.A., nuff said
Niggaz just are dead