Luyện nghe bài hát Paper Trippin'

Uhh, yeah! What's y'all? Dub C
chasin this cheese, puttin it down
Whassup
[Chorus: Dogg]
I ain't rich yet, I'm still stackin G's (dem dolla dolla dollars)
Ain't afraid to bust back, paper's all I need (we rider riders)
Nigga I rich yet, I'm still stackin G's (yeah, yeah)
Ain't to bust back, paper's all I need

it out
What they hittin fo'? Look I'm sick of all this
Bullshit rappin, really get it a-crackin
niggaz ain't ready fo' a nigga that's gettin paper
Foe scraper, dice shaker, the white, Taylors
Dark fat laces and fetti big-ass faces
gators (?), X.O. by the cases
The rider ringleader with and my zag smashin
Ya bang ambassador, givin it up back blastin ya
Off brand assassin-er, for figures c'mon
Totalled up a rock, with a offender
The tinter, the big spender
The realest you know, smellin like doe doe and Pruno
Sick the flow, swangin low-lows and Harleys
Gather the guests at my mansions and throw my parties
Ex criminal corporate; elevated my game to worldwide nation
Tippin on trippin nia


Big or big wings or big screens
y'all stands a ghetto nigga with big dreams
I throw the dice, my eyes and rich roll 'em
Take my handkerchief and 'em, y'all know the slogan
don't worry multiply shift gears
Toss fingers in the sky, fuck hoes and high
The the lick the bigger the hit to cash it all
So whether ready or not I'm snatchin it all
Wood grains and chrome frames the mode is
A trick that won't sang, dem thangs
Fuck the pain, me a label ain't shit funny
Look I'm tryin to touch that and Lyor Cohen's money
Get the Neville's money and blow doja with my on rich
And get my licked by the baddest bitch
Fade ya, real boy major with tough they ain't got
like pagers, nigga I'm paper trippin

[Nate
Paper is all.. (dolla dolla dolla dollars)
.. (dolla dolla dolla dollars)
.. (dolla dolla dolla dollars)
.. I

Testin testin, live
All day go fo' forty-nine
No garbage no cut, the bomb pow-wow
Gots to get my hands on that new style
Floss all you nigga, liquor up
A rugged nigga smokin on a cigarette
Mashin and I ain't lettin the up
Cause all these songs on my radio ain't ghetto
Shutted 'em up with the tank in the cut, I'm sweated to
Dub C'zy, fo'ever, 'em up
Hands down I'm the man
Who else could take a gang hop and turn it to a national
Givin the fans a glance of a rider saggin his
with my rag on my cane standin in a penguin stance,
Worldwidin, ridin,
it's sincerely yours the Ghetto Heisman, paper trippin


Dub C, ghetto extrordinaire, hood
Comin through fingers in the air
know what time it is
[Nate] I ain't rich yet, I'm still stackin G's
[WC] Dem dolla dollars