Luyện nghe bài hát One Mo Pound

I was through the hood one day
shit den calmed down,
"gang-bangin'" den played out by the years since I den been
Ain't talked to nobody from my
all my niggas is locked up
And it's been all I seen wit a guillotine
So I was in the "cut supreme"
grams and some "greenodine"
Ain't seen a block since
But now I'm off that kill
(mothtafuckas got no love for me)
(niggas put some slugs in me)
So I'm double 0 seven, redrum wit my three fifty seven
Brotha hung, but the bitches call me kevin
They try to make me think they to me, but neb'in [never]
You know I gots to (say high) stay high, keep for alibis
And the meat ate from them drive-bys ain't mine
mine's a supe' desguise
As I the skies high off that buddha
Tah mixed the cusche and the purple
And it got me
(now I'm on the river)
Labeled mr.
(cause them I deliver)
Got to get to my next
Unlock the get the meat for the "rocks" [rotweilers]
And heat the cause it's the "nine-neb'in" ['97]
And hot den a mothafucka
(all day everyday) stay loaded up, "krondike" in the trunk
And a full of james brown
Cause I gots to get loaded so up soldier

[chorus:

The count
(one pound of smoke and it's guaranteed to make a mothafucka choke)
(ain't got no down ass bitch at my
But I got some bomb ass in my ride)

but notches, booches
Fill my pockets, hit 'em up everyday, have my pay
The gaungay got me high now I'm paranoida den these
rich, i'mma take the loot
And the dig a ditch, your neighborhood bitch
To miss me with hoe shit
Cause i'mma get this when he surface
And that's on I love, I gots to split his wig
Opened up the blue packet, stung him like a yellow-jacket
Rib cage heavily padded, hit him the automatic shells
Send him to hell express his mailing address
We got his name, for sho', then we went to the house and did shit
I know I said I do it alone in the pass, everybody in the neighborhood
Somebody jack his ass up like a six-four impala
You floatin' on water
Pack your shit up nigga like it's on you and your ? woda-goda?
Track ass down, smoke your last pound

2xs]

(if you smell any smoke it's me and my homies gettin' blown)
And I was late home, intoxicated
Fight my old lady
She was comin at unreal, hit the blunt and now animated
Motivate through you a foggy mist
You can hold me in your like that nitro hit
First degree told me if the weed can
talk some shit, gotta get me an underspot
Make me a museum like b-legit
I'm tryin to bump my on the moon
Live so high up in the mountains snake meat, fried raccoons
With a attitude I food to eat up
Smoke a fat blunt on my couch with my up
Top notch program, dos mode indo 95 siccmade
Stay paid til the day on the ground, i'mma lay, i'mma loaded up
In my trunk I got the blow you up and it'll you up
And the count

[brotha lynch sends out shout outs til the end]