Luyện nghe bài hát On The Real

Yeah, yeah, on the, on the, on the
On the real, all you crab know the deal

Finally up in this
Let's pay homage to
Let's put the where it's at
10 years never been done real by nobody

To my seed, may I lead you into no or evil
In the categories of stories I breed my
You the money, blues, blunts, broken 22's
see, monkey do

Shorty sipping dew
Now it's V S O P in a phantom, mad
Murder trees, gat in the stash so it won't poke me
Up in the Trump Plaza, 3010, don't make no noise

'Cause we tell them hoes hurry in
We got the room lit up with perfume and mad
And there's video taping ass's on the zoomin' lens
on you nondescript niggaz

You're marked for death Colombians with bad coke that gyp niggaz
Tilt the dutch, twisted up the if you're skilled enough
In will we trust, salute the dead the mili busts

That is 10 years old, 9 1/2 years old
Street's
The Rebirth comin' at you year baby
It's on

Yeah to the hood, may this be the day that we pop bottles
This is mandatory, what if there's not
You the murder rate, jealousy, you heard 'em say
He say, she say, I'm bout cheddar, he don't to make

clear liquor with niggaz, that talk sideways
Listenin' close, to word in case they violate
Up in the projects 5D
Spark a lea' bout da reed, countin' everything the block see

We 'bout to need to the corners from them cowards
Get it on so y'all can move more powder, by the hour
Hold in case we rip niggaz
Loaded teflon coated flip niggaz

ninth grade to lightweight to grams to my
Mans guns in hand
Police vans, missed the summers again

Yeah, power to the
Death to the
beast to the mic 1, 2 check
Y'all on me

And they look like you approachin' me like how you,
The F B I see one problem, they try to slump me
After the young black male he makes a lot of money
So hustlers make crack sales 'cuz they deprived and

My country hates that I could run state to state with hunnies
While makin' cake real golded plate rims on Hum-V's
The stroker, the kush smoker, nigga
Just when you thought it was over look over your

I'm 30 now, baby sip and sip 'em slow
Motto no stress, smokin' less I did befo'
You see the kid was broke till I spitted vivid of hard
ghetto children, of a lesser god, religion was fast women
Expensive cars y'all witnessin' over 10