Luyện nghe bài hát Phonetime

Son, I zone, my gun is never on
I copped the new Jordan's, the white wit' skate key
(Me, I'm just Pop, serving my time)
(Got my greens on, these faggots deservin' a shine)
And yeah, while I'm home you like livin'
I those crackers dissed you, smack you at the board
(When twenty-four, did the same to Norman and Lord)
(Heard you cop the silver GS, my you scored)

Yea, it's nuthin' 'cuz I'm bread
is dead, bitches wanna give me head
(You's a nigga, I just saw Kai in the yard)
(He said holla, when you getta chance, the God)
Tell Kai I said up, and his sister is grown
I the four-fifth auto, it's pretty with chrome
(The day I home, I need a mink and a brand new Mac)
(A few jump offs, some Dom's, beer, and the crack)

I'm outside on the streets, just it down
(I'm in jail pumpin' iron, son, and books)
I'm in the studio, droppin' sixteen's hooks
(I'm in the in the cypha, just smokin' my sticks)
I'm in Queens Coliseum, just coppin' new
(I hit the law library, to come home soon)
I just finished up the album, fin' ta drop in
(Yeah, yeah, yeah)

(My dun gangstas, caught in blood beef with the Kings)
(You Jarome brotha, my dun I used to creep wit' in Queens)
And dat's my dun too, so I'ma out now
And my dogs on the Island, just get on the prawl
(On the other of things, I'm tryin' to get released)
(Around my born day, but a nigga keep in beef da beast)
Fuck the police all of dem niggas is fake
Don't lose your C.R., son, you'll get open date

(Dun, I'ma see ya regardless I got two violent felony charges)
And you know your appeal is
(You're my dog, dun)
And we gon' this tight
I keep your commisary phat, I'ma you right
(I got the chronic stashed in a carton and kicks)
(Good for the bitches butt-naked and the flicks)
And you ain't gotta me, real niggas do real things
I keep freak hoes, they really do ill

I'm on the streets, just holdin' it down
(I'm in jail pumpin' iron, son, and books)
I'm in the studio, droppin' sixteen's hooks
(I'm in the in the cypha, just smokin' my sticks)
I'm in Queens Coliseum, just coppin new
(I hit the law library, hope to home soon)
I just up the album, fin' ta drop in June
(Yeah, yeah, yeah)

I used to be ugly, now these bitches is
And what? I made you executive producer
Some extra G's, so when you home you breathe
(They believe to see me come home to a V)
(Pigs pressin' me, want for they seeds)
(I gotta C.O. thinkin' that we fuck when I leave)
Yo, think about this money, fuck them hoes
We throw a pounda weed out, at one the shows

it out, in the crowd, see them niggas get wild
Capone home, still diggin our style
(Shit is foul, how these crackers tryin' to me confined?)
(I gotta visit last and saw Gremlin Divine)
Meet Timbo and Ice, got and rolled dice
Scooped, loose, then we headed to Post
And got hydro-weed and we had our toast
(Son, there's only one left)
(Son, only one minute left, son, I'm ghost)

I'm on the streets, just holdin' it down
(I'm in jail pumpin iron, son, and books)
I'm in the studio, droppin' wit' hooks
(I'm in the yard in the cypha, smokin' my sticks)
I'm in Queens Coliseum, coppin' new kicks
(I hit the law library, to come home soon)
I just finished up the album, fin' ta in June
(Yeah, yeah, yeah)

I'm outside on the streets, just it down
(I'm in jail iron, son, and readin' books)
I'm in the studio, sixteen's wit' hooks
(I'm in the yard in the cypha, just my sticks)
I'm in Queens Coliseum, coppin' new kicks
(I hit the law library, to come home soon)
I just finished up the album, ta drop in June
(Yeah, yeah, yeah)