Luyện nghe bài hát Paper Trippin'

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

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


Big beans or big or big screens
Befo' y'all stands a ghetto nigga big dreams
I the dice, close my eyes and rich roll 'em
Take my handkerchief and fold 'em, y'all know the
don't worry multiply shift gears
Toss in the sky, fuck hoes and stay high
The bigger the lick the bigger the hit to it all
So whether they ready or not I'm it all
Wood grains and chrome the mode is hang
A that won't sang, transported dem thangs
Fuck the pain, me a label ain't shit funny
Look I'm tryin to that Rush and Lyor Cohen's money
Get the Neville's money and blow with my stash on rich
And get my dick licked by the baddest
Fade ya, real boy with tough shit they ain't got
like three-way pagers, nigga I'm paper

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

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


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