Luyện nghe bài hát Phonetime

Son, I zone, my gun is never on
I copped the new Jordan's, the white ones wit' key
(Me, I'm just Pop, serving my time)
(Got my greens on, faggots ain't deservin' a shine)
And yeah, while I'm home you like abroad
I heard those crackers dissed you, smack you at the
(When twenty-four, did the same to Norman and Lord)
(Heard you cop the silver GS, my you scored)

Yea, nuthin' 'cuz I'm gettin' bread
Crack is dead, bitches wanna me head
(You's a nigga, I just saw Kai in the yard)
(He said holla, when you chance, scribe the God)
Tell Kai I what up, and his sister is grown
I copped the four-fifth auto, it's pretty chrome
(The day I come home, I a mink and a brand new Mac)
(A few offs, some Dom's, some 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' wit' hooks
(I'm in the yard in the cypha, smokin' my sticks)
I'm in Queens Coliseum, just coppin' new
(I hit the law library, hope to come soon)
I just finished up the album, fin' ta drop in
(Yeah, yeah, yeah)

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

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

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

I used to be ugly, now bitches is Medusa
And guess I made you executive producer
extra G's, so when you come home you breathe
(They won't believe to see me home to a V)
(Pigs me, want autographs for they seeds)
(I gotta C.O. that we gon' fuck when I leave)
Yo, nigga think about this money, fuck hoes
We gonna throw a weed out, at one the shows

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

I'm outside on the streets, holdin' 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, smokin' my sticks)
I'm in Queens Coliseum, just coppin' new
(I hit the law library, hope to home soon)
I finished up the album, fin' ta drop in June
(Yeah, yeah, yeah)

I'm outside on the streets, just holdin' it
(I'm in pumpin' iron, son, and readin' books)
I'm in the studio, droppin' wit' 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 come soon)
I just up the album, fin' ta drop in June
(Yeah, yeah, yeah)