Luyện nghe bài hát Rec-Room Therapy

Ight, now, this is how we gon' do shit
You know I'm saying? Niggaz wasn't out in the streets back then
When was doing shit son, you know what I mean?
Yeah, check the

I flushed bags of powder down project toilets
You could of found of me on the dusted, unable to call it
Jums in my pocket, the was stolen, tapping pockets
On the local dealers, just to see what they holding
I know, niggaz with crack viles stuck to colon

The acid, done bubbled up, now they stomach's is
That just, life in the hood, surrounded class, who we bag in our
The haze, we hit it and pass
We to the Ghost of old days, yeah, old ager hump
We rap renegades, must stay

Get
(Get money)
Get money,
(Get money)

Get
(Get money)
Get money,
(Get money)

Big out gooses on, Stan Smiths
The housing cops can suck our dicks, we out
Of convertible shit, next drip inhaling
Chilling, my throat frozen, my brick

of Cru, bitches with Baby Phats, they swinging ax
They singing, you still blinging, daddy, now it back
The smokest rap niggas, honey, I'mma a match
To bust the game wide open, need an axe

I juggle this, practice, smuggle in the cactus
Keep a hood, I still go and a fat bitch
Actress, slinging the backs of five
A cocaine Chef, I stretch money like
Nigga, my raps is bigger, dynamics with the advantage
Jake on dust, when I blam shit

Get
(Get money)
Get money,
(Get money)

Get
(Get money)
Get money,
(Get money)

Yo, we been bagging eighteen, kid, polo rugs on with gloves on
Rented cars, fronting on broads
Gum slow, moon, leather pants, Avia days
your hands off my blunt and my waves

Benetton, Superman bomb, in the lobby, we clapping
Hats on, protecting your moms, you know how we
Spray something down if the say
It's on, I my lines to the PJ's
Triple beams, jars, smoking nickle weeds
All we did is look mad fly, rings

Whatever homeboy, you want it, you could get your
A closer, you can sense we got heat
It's only me plus four ill gangstas
We all anxious to blow up your and spank shit

Get
(Get money)
Get money,
(Get money)

Get
(Get money)
Get money,
(Get money)

I'm for the get down, hit the town, sick the bloodhounds on 'em
I rip clowns, I pounds, I spit rounds
I'm on the prowl, my stomach growl, by the crowd
Rush through Records, drop mushroom clouds
I'm not a rapper, I'm spellbound, I melt down G-Force
With heat walks, free falling to a better money, bet he's

Spread the honey, big inside the Humvee
Mix inside my lungies, spend bread on my Dungarees
And such and such, Ghost plugged me with this
Please, don't hug me, bug me, I'm ugly when I
I'm hard like a jungle hunter, off in Heather

Double cross me, lift your boss off your feet, 'course he's
Whatever, whatever, he cried
Tennis players get fried, playing both of the ends
Keep your eyes on friends, 'cuz they spy for the feds
Watch me from the dead, I got ties with the dreads

Get
(Get money)
Get money,
(Get money)

Get
(Get money)
Get money,
(Get money)