Luyện nghe bài hát Puffin On Blunts And Drankin Tanqueray

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yo, yo, do this shit
Ha, ha, I thought I a puddy tat
a punk-ass nigga
Yo, yea, yo, Death Row's in the house

Wreckin' shit you what I'm sayin'?
This is Dr. Dre in the motherfuckin'
Yo, I got my homeboys in the
The Dogg definitely in here, yeah

I got my nigga Kurupt ready to some shit, yo
You know what else I got in the
Yo, so diggi-Daz step up on ass
Yeah, guess what's in

My home girl Rage, I my home girl Rage
Yeah, the lyrical motherfuckin' murderer's in
Yo, my nigga Glove the boards
Yo, dropping funky-ass bass line, yeah

You know, you there's a lot of punk-ass niggaz out there
A lot of punk-ass out there
Yo, you wanna names?
Yo, that nigga Eazy-E, he's a bitch, really though

Yo, that Tim M-U-T, he's a punk-ass beatch, beeatch!
Ha ha, you what I'm sayin'?
Oh, oh, oh Luke, I forget about you, beatch!
Really though, yo, Death in the motherfuckin' house

Running the 9-3, you know,
But right now
There's a little freestyle going on, in the studio
We just kickin' gettin' fucked up and all

You know, on a few blunts
Drinkin' a bit of that Tanqueray, Tanqueray
Yeah, definitely in the house
You know what I'm Ha, ha, ha

'Cause I'm feelin' it, baby, I'm it, really though
So a, right about now, aiyyo
Yo Rage, yo run shit G

All ways and forever, and all ways
The rhythm flow from now and through all days
As as the sun shines
As long as Eisenours on the

Yo, be kickin' the rhyme
One time for ya mind, your soul, your
D O G's on the side of me, as E & J, hard as Bacardi
those yaddy-yacks and ducks keep quackin'

Hands are clappin', end up cracklin'
Under the heat, the from the one that's deffer
Egyptian ruler will me Cleo or Nefertiti, yes indeed
Got the eyes of the beedie, body Tahiti

Voice of the will lyrics blow, chills up ya that's ill slow
All in ya mind drop a yo
Came in the front but you be kicked through the door
For tryin' to step, tryin' to incorrect

Tryin' to the left, tryin' to start a mess
Tryin' to cause fuss, to raise a ruckus, huh
You'll end up to ashes, dusk to dusk
A busta you musta fuckin' on drugs
And alcohol off, all a y'all up against the wall

'em, dogs go get 'em and
Cuff 'em and 'em, cold shed 'em don't let 'em
Not a word, not another one
If you try you die, visions blurred, slurred
Served a cherry on top

Rage in effect, I just begun to
Yeah, on witcha bad self
(Rage)
Rock on witcha bad
(Rage)
Rock on bad self
(Rage)
on witcha bad self

Yo, I'm Dat Daz who packs a tre-8 slug
A true nigga the hood and the pound gives love
Yo, see niggas wanna be down but never around
So up off my nuts and stop sweatin' the pound

You see niggas get broke off 1, 2, 3
I'm the D-A to the
(D-A-to the)
to the Z

Now G'z pay attention to this young ass daddy
In a caddy-haddy, not about the city
Where the hang around
So I 'em up and hit 'em up
the motherfuckin' Dogg Pound

I'm rough and and up till to the dirt
I'm the Dogg Pound nigga so I'm puttin' in work
I'm no joke, who the fuck you to provoke
(1-8-7)

It's cool, how his ass got
I don't drink no fuckin'
I the motherfuckin' O.G., Olde E
I'm the click that be kickin' the gangsta shit bitch

niggas, real G'z with real big dicks
I hit 'em up the Pound
So you wanna throw up
Claimin' cocaine or cavi when you blow up

Know what? The Pounds in the house
Back we try to get high as we kin
Dr. Dre be kickin' phat rhymes and produce and kick
I gets more wicked than

Motherfuckers get battered, so
Before I keep ya hostage a hostage like the grim reaper
So I'm comin' my hood, what hood
You like to know motherfucker I thought you knew

Motherfucker, don't you know I'm stranded on the
I a look into the crowd, kick a style a flow
I'm mashin', motherfuckers get murdered for
Relax kid, you're rollin' a fuckin' assasin'

did dirt the other day
Betray, the roll of a G, the D-O double G
P-O-U-N-D, Pound so motherfuckin' marks
The execute the start, when the gets sparked
I'm like [unverified], rough and
I'm like baldhead [unverified]

Wrecks, I flex murderous rhymes to you all dead
What said is all said it's already
The is the dead, I ain't no fuckin' joke
I motherfuckers as a hobby

One of my idols ain't no so why in the fuck should I be
Fly me to the Bahamas, rhymer
Dramas what kickin', wicked is how I'm a
Approach ya, the locster, quick to up and smoke ya

You're like a smoka, grinnin' like the joker
I yolk ya da back like a bitch talkin' shit
But a bitch ain't shit, 'cause a bitch ain't
But a ho and trick on my

Flip, take a trip to the Dogg Pound
tried to punk me when I was young but I'm a hog now
And I gets and I step with a tec 9
Ready to put somethin' up in ass to give respect mine

Fool, Deatrow ain't lynchin' and the Pound ain't
We all don't give a fuck run in your crib and robbin'
Throbbin', break a nigga down in the 90's
Maxin' at the Pound with my doggs is you'll find me

Hell,
You niggaz can't fade this shit, you know what I'm
Death Row's in the motherfuckin'
The Dogg Pound's in here, you know what I'm sayin'?
And, ay, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, you niggaz fuck with this
So don't try it

in the studio all you want, stay in the studio all you want
'Cause you can't fuck with
See ya