Luyện nghe bài hát One Mo Pound

I was through the hood one day
Thought shit den down,
"gang-bangin'" den played out by the years since I den been
Ain't talked to from my block
Cause all my is locked up
And it's all ever I seen wit a guillotine
So I was in the "cut supreme"
Fifteen and some "greenodine"
Ain't seen a nigga since
But now I'm off that kill
(mothtafuckas got no love for me)
(niggas wanna put slugs in me)
So I'm double 0 seven, murder redrum wit my fifty seven
Brotha lynch hung, but the bitches call me
try to make me think they close to me, but neb'in [never]
You know I gots to (say high) stay high, keep recipts for
And the meat they ate from them drive-bys ain't
Cause mine's a supe'
As I swoop the high off that buddha
Tah the cusche and the purple hairs
And it got me
(now I'm on the river)
mr. fedex
(cause bodies I deliver)
Got to get to my plot
Unlock the freezer get the meat for the "rocks"
And heat the cause it's the "nine-neb'in" ['97]
And it's hot den a
(all day everyday) i'mma stay up, "krondike" in the trunk
And a pound full of james
Cause I gots to get loaded so hold up

[chorus:

The goes
(one more pound of smoke and it's guaranteed to make a choke)
(ain't got no ass bitch at my side
But I got some ass weed in my ride)

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

[chorus

(if you smell any it's just 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 she's
through you like a foggy mist
You can hold me in your chest-plate like nitro hit
First degree me if the weed can toss
It'll talk some shit, get me an underspot
Make me a hemp museum b-legit
I'm tryin to bump my on the moon
Live so high up in the mountains snake meat, fried raccoons
a attitude I need food to eat up
Smoke a fat blunt on my with my feet up
Top notch program, dos indo 95 upgrade 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 blow you up
And the goes

[brotha hung sends out shout outs til the end]